


Times in the life of Saul Ramkin-Vimes and Samantha Vimes

by Seiya234



Series: Saul and Sam Verse [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Ankh-Morpork City Watch, F/M, Family, Genderswap, Kid Fic, Pregnancy, SaulandSamverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 51,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiya234/pseuds/Seiya234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started as an inability to draw guys for a fanart request has turned into a full blown AU!</p><p>Namely, what if Sybil Ramkin was born Saul Ramkin, and Sam stood for Samantha as opposed to Samuel?</p><p>So. Various incidents in the lives of Sir Saul Ramkin-Vimes, his wife the Commander of the City Watch, Duchess of Ankh, Lady Samantha Vimes, and their daughter, the Honorable Sybil Samantha Ramkin-Vimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

It had been a long, hard pregnancy for his mother, and Mrs. Content wasn’t called in until too late. Even then she probably hurt more than helped.

Saul Dominic Oliver, Lady Ramkin named him, and then passed on.

Many years later, when he and Sam were endowing the hospital, thinking about the work that Dr. Lawn had done, he suggested that it be called the Lady Deirdre Free Hospital, for his mother.


	2. Disappointment

It became quickly evident to Lord Ramkin that his son and heir was a Disappointment. He never said anything, talked with the staff, and refused to go hunting with his father. When Lord Ramkin dragged him along any way, it took an hour to get Saul to pick up the bow, and even then he knew damn well his son was misfiring away from the stags. Then there was that pansy hobby of his, swamp dragons. That was for girls, not for men.

So he sent Saul to Hugglestones, to toughen him up.

Saul and his father never, ever, got along.


	3. Drink

The first night they met, having a drink [1] in the study of Saul’s house while a party his father was throwing droned on in the background, Saul looked at Vetinari with eyes that less kind people may have described as “gullible” or “guileless” and said

"So you took care of Winder for us then?"

Vetinari was still young, so his eyebrows raised an inch, as opposed to the tiny twitch, then no movement at all, that he would master in the years to come.

Saul snorted. “Sorry, I just wanted to actually say it. That lot out there dances around it, but won’t say anything about it and…” he looked down at his drink. “Er…I just think you really helped the city out doing that and I think someone should say thank you.” He looked up again, his eyes somehow still bright in the dark of the study.

Vetinari was….flabbergasted. And he never had been flabbergasted before. [2]

But he quickly regained his cool and said, “Well. You’re welcome.”

"So when you going to get rid of Snapcase?"

This was the one and only time that Vetinari ever spat out a drink. [3]

______________________

[1] well, Saul was anyway. Vetinari, of course, did not drink.

[2] Shocked yes, flabbergasted no.

[3] A story that Saul would then go on to repeat for the rest of their lives. The look on Vimes’ face the first time she heard it would be unbearable to anyone else other than Vetinari, because OF COURSE Saul would tell it in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
>  
> 
> urrrrrrb Vetinari, downey and co pissing about and getting into general shenanigins, whether on the sneer or in the ass guild? 
> 
> So I may have taken some liberties.


	4. Confirmed

If he was a woman, Saul often thought, he would have been called a spinster. As it was, he was instead referred to by equally dubious “confirmed bachelor.” And objectively, he could see why.

After all, he was Ankh-Morpork’s most eligible bachelor-in terms of cash, land, and blood that is, but was in his forties and still unmarried. He was gentle, soft-spoken, and big-hearted. He had never, the male members of the gentry scoffed, gone to war or even big game hunting. He wasn’t even that great at being a confirmed bachelor, in the eyes of high society, always wearing his ratty old sweaters and leathers and raggedy boots and an absolutely atrocious toupee.

His biggest passion in life was the decidedly feminine land of dragon-breeding, and all of his friends were women because of that. He never made a move on the single ones however. If anyone had ever asked Saul (and no one ever did, just made assumptions and moved on), he’d tell them that while the ladies he knew were lovely, yes, and quite good friends, none of them interested him in that way. He simply couldn’t imagine raising a family with them or waking up next to them. He hadn’t met that woman yet. He didn’t think he ever would.

So Saul was labeled a ‘confirmed bachelor’ and he just accepted that he would be the last of the Ramkins (and oh wasn’t his father just rolling in his grave at that thought). He got on with getting on, breeding dragons, having tea with his friends, and working on his book about common diseases found in swamp dragons.

And if Saul sat around his empty house sometimes, and wished for someone, anyone who would spark the fire of interest in him, who looked at who he was, and not what he liked to do and say, well. No one ever knew because no one ever asked, not even his closest friends.

Then there was the day Sam came into his life.


	5. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, how Guards!Guards would have worked with Saul

The Dragon did not ask for a highborn virgin. Or a virgin at all. It may have been what was expected, but the Dragon figured as King, it's word was law. Not to mention, virgins had a rather sour, bitter taste to them.

No, if the Dragon was going to eat, it was going to eat smart. It asked Wonse who the foremost authority on it;s cousins was, and was told that it was Lord Saul Ramkin, ‘confirmed’ bachelor. Wonse was ordered forthwith to bring Lord Ramkin to him, for supper. 

Eliminate the biggest threat, the Dragon thought.


	6. Best Man

Best Man

The first he heard of the news was a report on his desk, and a note from one of his informants[1] that Lord Ramkin proposed to Captain Vimes at All Jolson’s the night before.[2]

He wasn’t surprised per se[3], but he had to admit that his younger self would never have thought that Sir Saul would marry a policewoman. [4]

————

The second he heard of it was a week later when Sir Saul Ramkin came into his office.

“Hallo Havelock!” Saul greeted him as he sat down. [5]

“Sir Saul.” He was glad to see that already in their engagement, Vimes had somehow persuaded his old friend to get rid of the poor fitting toupees he had been wearing for the last ten years. [7]

Saul pulled out an envelope. “I wanted to give this to you personally; it’s an invitation to the wedding.”

As he could tell by the creamy white envelope, the news he had gotten a week ago from his spies, and the little handwritten note Saul had sent by the day after.[8]

But Saul was one of the few people Vetinari could never have a cutting remark for, so he took the proffered envelope, opened it, and read through it.

“The Great Hall at Unseen University?”

Saul gave a crooked grin. “Sam is letting me plan most of it, but she insisted on it being at UU. And while its a Ramkin tradition to get married at the Temple of Blind Io, to be honest Havelock, I don’t give a whit where we’re married.”[9]

“Indeed.”

There was silence for a minute, then Saul spoke again.

“I’d like you to be my best man Havelock.”

—————————-

After Saul pulled him aside that night at Lord Ramkin’s party, the young man persisted in spending time with Vetinari.

He was the only one who did; not even his fellow travelers on the Sneer bothered;once they were done with the Sneer they went back to ignoring Vetinari, which truthfully was alright with him.

It was Saul that he told, albeit in an oblique matter, about Margolotta.

-

Vetinari only got drunk three times in his life. The first was with Saul, the night he ascended to the Patricanate. [10] Saul had come by the Oblong Office with a bottle of Bearhuggers,and two tumblers.

“I don’t drink Sir Saul.”

The newly minted Lord Ramkin, Saul’s father having passed three months earlier, frowned at Vetinari.

“For occasions like this, you do.”

He looked at the earnest face across from him. Saul was the only person who came to congratulate him, rather than seeking a favor under the guise of congratulations.

He nodded imperceptibly, and Saul smiled.

“Capitol!”

It was a testament to Vetinari’s sheer willpower that he didn’t show any signs of the massive hangover he had the next day.[12]

-

“Are you okay Havelock?”

Vetinari looked up from his paperwork to the big worried face of Sir Saul and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, you were imprisoned and I know Bloody Stupid Johnson designed much of this place and heaven only knows what he did with the cells and-“

“I am fine Sir Saul.”

Also, it had been rather amusing to see Vimes try and break out.

———————

People had asked him to take place in their wedding parties over the years; not out of a personal connection, of course not, but for the social cachet of having the Patrician at the ceremony.

He turned them down of course, citing the need for him to be impartial and not show favoritism towards any one family in Ankh-Morpork.

He’d often show up unannounced in the audience of course. The Patrician was the user, not the used, and it did people good to be reminded of that. [13]

He needed to turn Saul down, to maintain the impartiality of his office.

"Of course, Sir Saul."

On the other hand, perhaps once wouldn’t hurt.

After all, this was Saul Ramkin who was asking.

Saul burst out into a large grin.

"Oh wonderful! I will of course get you some more details the closer we get and I just can’t tell you how much this means to me and…”

Saul talked on, and Vetinari sat, feeling oddly content.  
______________________________

 

[1] Vetinari had no intention of ever retuning to the way things were under Winder and Snapcase. But there were certain people that it paid for the smart tyrant to have an eye on. In the case of Captain Vimes, he had plans for her.

Not to mention that she had a wonderful habit of infuriating those that needed to be, in Morporkian parlance, taken down a peg.

[2] She should have been suspicious, that her boyfrie-fiancée, the health nut, had taken her to her favorite restaurant for dinner.

[3] because one didn’t stay patrician long if constantly surprised by things.

[4] he had thought once or twice that Saul would marry a fellow dragon fancier.

[5] the first time Sam was in the Oblong office when Saul gave his usual hello to Lord Vetinari, her face went from stoic to dumbfounded so fast that Vetinari almost wished he had an iconograph of it.[6]

[6] even a stone would admit the humor in seeing the stoneface of the Captain of the Watch turn into a gaping jaw drop.

[7] Vetinari was not satorally inclined but even he couldn’t help but notice how tacky Saul’s toupees were.

[8] it was gushy, and read like it was written by a smitten sixteen year old school girl rather than a Lord pushing into his fourties. Oddly, it was all the more endearing for it.

[9] later, as he practically had to beg Sam to get her wedding dress, he thought ruefully to himself that at least there was one thing she picked out for the wedding.

[10] the second was at UU many years later during the affair of foot-the-ball. The last was the night he retired.[11]

[11] Lord Ramkin-Vimes, new grandfather, showed up to the Oblong Office with a bottle of Bearhuggers, and two tumblers.

“I don’t drink Sir Saul,” Vetinari said with a faint smile on his face.

There was a matching smile on Saul’s face.

“For occasions like this, you do.”

[12] Not helped by the fact that Saul seemed completely fine.

[13] even if they didnt appreciate the lesson.


	7. Wedding Dress

The final straw was the wedding dress she wouldn’t let him buy for her. No, Sam insisted, she did not want him spending any money on her, and she had a perfectly good dress she could use. 

Saul was familiar with that dress as it was the same blue dress she wore on every one of their dinner meetings. It was blue, shapeless, and had many years of inexpert repairs and patches, Sam having never learned how to sew. And being her old mum’s dress, Sam refused to give it to the sonky shop.

And while Saul thought Sam was the most beautiful woman ever, well and truly he did, and of course he wasn’t much good at that fashion thing…he just wanted to see Sam in something pretty and new and well fitting for once. 

AND she had made him burn his toupees, which he did because he loved her, but really. His head got really cold now, if less itchy  
.   
It was then that Saul, being a thoroughly modern man, had an idea.

So when Sam came to him two weeks later sputtering about how on Disc he could give her control of all his money and land, he just smiled and said, well he barely spent any of it anyhow except on dragons. And he trusted Sam and as a modern man he saw no problem with this anyway. 

And Sam glowered at him because she knew he was telling the truth. Saul just smiled and suggested that they go look for wedding clothes-“and don’t look at me that way Samantha Vimes it’s your money you are spending on yourself.”

And, as Sam got into the dress a few weeks later, she had to admit it was nice to get something new that even…flattered her. Plus, she had gone and had her old blue dress made into a skirt that she had on under the wedding gown.

For her old mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously wrote this on the notepad of my phone walking home from work today.


	8. Move Out

It was a week before their wedding and Samantha Vimes was getting ready to move into a man’s house.

Well, not just any man, but her fiancé, Saul Ramkin.[1]

She wasn’t intimidated by moving into a nob’s house[2][3], she thought to herself as she rooted under her bed, but she was a little worried about adjusting to living with someone again. She had been on her own since her mother died and….

There! Vimes wiggled from out under the bed with what she was looking for. It was an old, moth eaten, carpetbag, and it was one of the few things that her mother had left her.[4][5]

Three minutes later and she was done packing. She sat on her stiff bed one more time and looked around. There was a smell of sour beer that still hadn’t gone away, even though she hadn’t touched a drop since she started seeing Saul. She left the linens and the mirror-they had come with the room and the next person in here would use them-but it was odd, to realize that she had spent almost two decades living in this room.

Two decades of her life, and what she had to show for most of it was-she looked in her bag-the dress her mother made her, another two dresses that her mother owned that she had managed to keep from the sonky shops, a small cup, her razor[6], two or three tin pot medals for years of service before the Watch stopped bothering with that altogether, and a few other small things.

Things were turning around, things were, dare she say it, looking up. She had a good man, she was off the sauce[7], and the Watch was turning around as well.

But in this room with the smell that reminded her she had spent the last twenty years puking and pissing her wages into the gutter.

Ironically, she was feeling the urge to have a drink right now, to forget for one last night and-

No.

She had made her mistakes, and they were big fucking mistakes, but that was behind her now.

She picked up her bag, blew out the lamp, and headed out of her old home one last time.

——-----

[1] And my wasn’t that odd sounding coming from her mouth? She never thought she would get married, and the two or three times she thought about things like that, she usually imagined it to be a quick affair, not the small, but respectable period of engagement that they had with an impending ceremony…gods.

[2] It wasn’t a problem with Saul-Vimes’ brain broke at the idea of Saul treating anyone with less than perfect kindness and decency. No, the problem she knew she would run into would be other nobs and the people working at Ramkin Manor.[3]

[3] 20 or more years of run-ins with the gentry of Ankh-Morpork had taught Vimes that the staff could be just as much snobs as the actual nobs themselves.

[4] She had asked her mother once why they had a carpetbag, with “since we’re too poor to even go to the other side of town” implied within the question. Mary Vimes looked off for a minute before saying, “Your father promised a lot of things.”[5]

[5] And even when those promises had turned to ashes and dust in her mother’s mouth, neither could she bring herself to get rid of the bag.

[6] Samantha Vimes was not a vain woman, but she did like to shave her legs. She blamed her mother for starting her on it.

[7] That was a good thing godsdamnit and she was going to keep reminding herself of that fact.


	9. Tea

The month before the wedding, Saul mentioned that some of his girlfriends wanted to take Sam out to tea, and would she be a dear and go?

Vimes was wary of the whole rigmarole. So far her encounters with the high society of Ankh-Morpork had NOT gone well; she was either arresting the sons or offending the fathers with her class, her gender, her occupation, or all three.

But these were Saul’s oldest friends, and she loved Saul very much, so she put on her one good dress and went to ‘dear Brenda’s house’ for tea. ‘Dear Brenda’, being of course the Dowager Duchess of Quirm.

Three rounds of tea later, Sam was shocked to find that, while she and Saul’s friends would never be close friends per se, they actually accepted her. And seemed to like her. As Sam was too busy simply being agog at this, she only vaguely heard the conversation around her.

“Silly fool didn’t think that we didn’t notice him pining away,” Brenda noted, sipping a sherry. “We did of course, and we tried to show him some ladies that were un-attached , but either they wouldn’t treat Our Saul right or he just was not interested. And then he started wearing that damn toupee!-“

At this point everyone laughed, Sam included, and Rosie Devant-Molei, the woman in charge of the Sunshine Sanctuary noted that “if anything Samantha, we are grateful that you helped get rid of those ratty things.”

Yes, Vimes reflected, she was not vain. Really, she wasn’t. And of course she loved Saul for him and not his looks. But my gods, did he not know how to pick out a toupee. The ones he had were, if not moth eaten, then of garish colors that clashed against his skin and clothing. Even Sam, with her limited knowledge of aesthetics, could have picked better for him.

Not that she was going to. She rather liked playing with the fuzz on his head, burned red and shiny from all the dragon flame.

As the afternoon turned toward the evening, and Sam made her excuses, she realized as she left that she rather liked Saul’s friends. And, she was amazed to discover, they seemed to like her as well.

What Samantha Vimes did not realize was that to Saul’s friends, all that they cared about was that she made Saul happy. For that, his friends would overlook most anything to see a light that had been long missing re-enter Saul Ramkin’s eyes.


	10. Unpleasant Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this awesome tumblr prompt
> 
> the-l-space said: sam coming home early form work and being forced to participate in sybil and havelock’s weekly get-together over tea (yes, i want to see him squirm)

They had been married for about eight months when Vimes decided to surprise her husband by coming home early.[1][2] Ankh-Morpork had been mind-bogglingly quiet that day, and Vimes just knew if she didn’t take advantage of it now, there would be a riot or an explosion or the roof getting literally shouted off at the Town Crier’s Guild.[3]

She had shut the door behind her and was about to shout to Saul when she heard….voices.

Not the usual array of feminine voices that indicated that Saul’s large and extensive group of friends was over having tea and discussing rather distressing gastrointestinal problems.[4] But a male voice, in addition to her husband’s and oh gods no.

She had a sinking feeling who she would find when she walked into the kitchen[5] and sure enough there was Saul, drinking tea with the godsdamned Patrician.

It was not one of her finer moments, she would think later. She just stood there, mouth agape, completely unable to comprehend Lord Vetinari, not only just in her house, but in the kitchen, drinking tea out of one of the heavy clay mugs that Saul loved to use.[6]

Saul, the Unflappable, pulled out a chair for her. “Hullo Sam! You’re just in time for tea! Havelock[7] just got here as well!”

Vimes briefly thought of escape, but realized that it was useless. She sat down in the offered chair like a woman sitting down to her last meal.

Saul leaned down[8] to give her a kiss on the cheek, which normally she didn’t mind except not in front of godsdamned Vetinari.

And while she was turning red despite her best efforts to will the blood away from her face, Saul, her husband, the person whom she loved so much and so fiercely that she surprised herself sometimes with the force of her feelings, turned to Vetinari and said, “Where was I? Oh yes, it is really quite adorable when Sam plays with the little dragons. It really helps them get used to people handling them.”

This….this was not happening and Vetinari was giving her that infuriating look that said that he knew what she was thinking and she couldn’t punch anything or leave and could the ground just open up and swallow her now.

The tea was the most horrifying and uncomfortable forty five minutes of Samantha Vimes’ life.[9]

——————————————————

[1] That was what good wives did right?[2]

[2] Not that she would ever be what society considered a ‘good’ wife. Hells, there were people still tuttering over the fact that Saul was going by Ramkin-Vimes now and she was still….Sam Vimes.

[3] Something she would have sworn could not happen but there was that call last year and now Vimes was a little more leery of large crowds of overly loud people stuffed into tiny space.

[4] They were not quite Ladies Who Lunch. More like Ladies Who Muck Out Funky Smelling Stalls and Mess With Highly Flammable Animals and Materials.

[5] They had a dining room complete with 15 foot long table, chairs to sit a small army, and drafts cold enough to make the temperature drop twenty degrees. As it was just the two of them, they usually ate at a small table in the kitchen where they could hear and see each other, and most importantly, not freeze during meals.

[6] They were from a friend of his who lived in Sto Helit and fancied herself an artist. She was…well, they were mug shaped and didn’t leak and their thickness kept cold things cold and hot things hot but the important thing here was that they were made by a dear friend for him so how could Saul not use them?

[7] For the life of her, Vimes could not get over the fact that Saul referred to the man who was the ruler of the city and her boss and the biggest pain in her arse by his first name.

[8] Such things happening when one was over a foot taller than one’s wife.

[9] And considering her boozer days, her career as a Watchman, and every situation her temper got her into, that was really saying something.


	11. Adjustments

There was an adjustment period, when they got married. Saul supposed it was only natural, considering the both of them had spent so long on their own, not just as single adults, but as only children as well.

And now each of them had to learn how to live with another person.

——

It was a good thing that they got a head start on sharing a bed[1] because that was the biggest adjustment for them.

Saul slept, for some reason, with the covers over his head. This wouldn’t have been a problem except sometimes in the night he’d inadvertently pull them over Sam’s head as well. Sam would then have what would be called in any other person a spaz fit and would proceed to kick the entire blanket off the bed, all while still asleep.

Saul would wake up wondering what the hell happened while Sam slept on, unhampered no more.

As for Sam, it amazed Saul that someone so short and scrawny could take up so much space in bed. Yet inevitably, when Sam fell asleep, he was pushed to the edge of the bed.

Or woke up with his head on the mattress and Sam’s head on his pillow.

Or the never ending pokes and prods of her sharp knees and elbows.

And then there was the memorable time that her head ended up at the foot of the bed and Sam’s own feet ended up in his face.

When they married and she moved in, Saul went up to the attic, and replaced his own one person bed with the biggest bed he could find up there.

——

Saul cooked rather well if he didn’t say so himself.[2] What fruit and veg he didn't get from the Manor, he grew himself on the grounds next to his flower beds.[4] He didn’t eat much meat except for the occasional chicken from the coop outside [5] and spent much kitchen time experimenting with legumes, grains , and pastas.

It was rather a shock to marry Sam and find that to her there were four food groups: crunchy, chewy, burnt, and fatty. Preferably all on one plate if possible. The only vegetables she would touch were ones that were slathered in butter or deep fried.

The first dinner he made her after they were married was braised chicken with a quinoa salad.

Sam just looked at him quizzically.

After a few months of trial and error, they came to an agreement of sorts. At home, she would eat whatever Saul made [6], and in turn, she could have what she liked outside of the house.[7]

Vimes had to admit, once she got used to all the rabbit food, Saul cooked wonderfully.

——

Saul quickly found that there was the Samantha Vimes he married and knew at home, and then there was Samantha Vimes, Commander of the Watch.

There was the Sam who was, in her own way, rather shy when it came to affairs of the heart. He often caught her looking at him wonderingly, and he knew it was because she couldn’t believe he married her.[8]

There was the Sam who blushed when she brought him flowers, and then there was the Sam who went out and stopped riots in the street and spent most of her day yelling.

There was the Sam who helped him gently handle baby swamp dragons[9], who grew out her hair a bit for him because he liked playing with it, who fell asleep with her head on his lap on the couch.

And there was the Sam who came home covered in cuts and bruises, who left blood covered clothes in the laundry, and who left scattered in her wake half heard tales of rooftop chases, interrogations in the Tanty, raids and arrests.

There was the Sam who would sometimes be the only person leaving a room alive if it weren’t for her other officers being there.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  
——

Saul sang in the bath.

This wasn’t a problem.

Except for the two nights out of three that Sam had gotten to bed only an hour before her husband was getting up for the day.

Sam had thought before she married Saul she could sleep through anything, but she didnt count on pieces from various dwarf and human operas, sung at the top of her dear husband’s lungs.

She let it lie; gods knew she wasn’t the most easiest person to live with.

She was, however, considerably more crabby for a month or two before she got used to it.

——

Saul, for the life of him, did not understand why his wife wouldn’t let him buy her a new pair of boots.

“Sam, your soles are about worn through!” he said a month after they had gotten married.

She looked at him. “Well, it can be wet at times but I can feel where I’m going so I don’t mind.”

“Feel….Sam love, are you having trouble with your eyesight?”

She gave him a wifely look that translated as ” I love you but you clearly have no idea what I mean” but simply responded. “No Saul.”

“Well, let me know your size and I'll get you a new pair.”

The look Sam gave him was one of abject horror so he let it drop.

Gods, she was so stubborn.[10]

—-

No matter what minor squabbles and disagreements they had, at the end of the day, both Sam and Saul knew they had made the best decision of their lives in marrying the other.

Also, the bathtub story went over great for Sam at their 20th anniversary party, judging by how red Saul turned.  
—————-  
[1] Saul was unsure of the proprieties, or what he should do or say when they first began seeing each other. Sam solved that for him by essentially ambushing him after their third dinner together.

[2] it seemed silly to have a live in cook when it was just him, so he and Sally struck a deal; he got her a job cooking for the Patrician, she would come by if he ever needed catering. Or a good long natter. [3]

[3] Sally having been with Saul’s family since he was born. As far as he was concerned, she was like the aunt he never had.

[4] that Saul was a great gardener was yet another thing that did not endear him to the men of his class.

[5] which, Sam was surprised to learn, he butchered himself. Considering that she saw him once take a cup and paper to shoo a spider outside, she was a bit shocked to come home one day and find him up to his elbows in blood and feathers.

[6] though he made sure to have on hand a vast assortment of sauces, chutneys, pickles, and relishes for her. Marriage, he was discovering, was all about compromise.

[7] not that in later years Saul didn't try to get her to eat better at work, but some efforts are doomed from the beginning.

[8] he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her, and that she couldn’t see what a wonderful person she was.

[9] it helped for their future adoption if they were used to humans handling them, Saul had found. Sam found the sooner you got them used to people, the sooner she could get them to flame for her and light her cigar.

[10] after a while though, he figured out a compromise and got a pair of boots made that were sturdy and well made and manage to have thin soles that Sam could still feel the street through without having holes in her shoes.[11]

[11] Sam had smiled when she worn them for the first time and realized what they were. Even when he didn’t understand, he understood.


	12. Names

Saul knew there would never be a Sam Vimes who would consent to becoming Sam Ramkin. That just was not Sam’s way. It didn’t bother Saul. So Sam kept her name after they married.

But there may be children one day, so Saul mused on it, and one day six months after they were married, Saul surprised Sam at the Pseudopolis Watch House with lunch and something else.

“I went by my solicitors today,” Saul said, looking at the love of his life tear through the sandwich he had made for her. “I was thinking about…children. Maybe. One day. And I thought about you and me and…”

Saul was unusually tounge-tied and Sam was giving him an odd look, so Saul just showed her the paper declaring that Lord Saul Ramkin was now Lord Saul Ramkin-Vimes. 

“Any kids we have, they’ll be Ramkin-Vimes. Any children they have will be Ramkin-Vimes. There is no just 'Ramkin' after you and I, it will be 'Ramkin-Vimes' after this.” He smiled at Sam’s flabbergasted look. “Honestly Sam, you turned my life around, and what better way to show it than this?”

Samantha Vimes was not one for public affection, but she made an exception and proceeded to snog the hell out of her husband.


	13. Female

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, explaining Angua in Men at Arms.

“I mean, she’s a werewolf! AND a she!” Colon sputtered. The last made Sam look up from her desk and at him.

“Fred, what exactly do you think I am?” Sam asked in a dangerously calm tone of voice. Fred heard the harmonics in this voice and edited the rest of his planned harangue accordingly. Sam usually used that voice on suspects and people who annoyed her before erupting like a volcano on them.

“Well, I mean, um… well, it’s against…” Fred sputtered before Vimes interrupted him.

“The Watch has ALWAYS taken women; bigods man we need the man…person…we need more Watchmen! Hell, they were so hard up when you and I joined that they didn't even say anything about me being a girl! The only reason we don’t have more women in the Watch now is because the Captain before me refused to take them and now people have the notion that we don’t.” A dangerous glint came into Vimes’ eye. “If you thought that, what does that make me, a woman, your Captain, in the Watch?”

Colon was sweating buckets now. “Well, I mean…you’re a woman, yeah, but…I mean, you’re not a girl or a woman, you’re just Sam, Sam!”

After a moment’s thought, Vimes let it lie. Colon wasn’t a bad sort, really, and she had known him since she first joined up; he was one of her oldest friends. She supposed some women would be offended that their femininity had been so thoroughly ignored, but honestly, she hadn't even thought of that until she met Saul. She was a Watchman, and everything else came second or third or last. 

Though as Colon left the office, she did remember why she had joined the Watch; back in her day, it was either that or become a Seamstress. And young Samantha Vimes was too proud to do her work on her back, no offense to those ladies of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will go further into how Sam got into the Watch at some point, when I can think more about it.


	14. Hiring

With the opening of the Watch Houses, they needed new officers yesterday.

And she was the Commander now.

Her Watch, her rules.

She looked down at the poster that the Watch had been using since forever.

She crossed out “Bee a man!” and wrote above it “Men and women,”. She would give it to Carrot for reprinting in the morning. Doubtless he would turn “Men and Women, Join the Watch!” into something painfully earnest, patriotic, and grammatically incorrect.

But her point would be noted.

She was the Commander. She.

Vimes smiled.[i]

It was time to rock the boat a bit.

————————————————————————————————

The Watch always had admitted women, one of the few employers in Ankh-Morpork to do so.[ii] This policy had fallen by the wayside over the years, but the fact still remained.

Sam had gone ignored when the Watch was just her, Fred and Nobby. Sam could be looked over when she was nothing more than a drunkard nominally heading a bygone and broken relic of an institution. Even when a few more people joined and the Watch were poking their noses into places they didn’t belong, it was easy to forget that the washed-up alkie captain was a woman.[iii]

But now Vimes was now not only the Commander of the Watch, she was also married to the richest man in Ankh-Morpork. And there were these handbills across the city exhorting gels, GELS, to join the Watch, and well….this just would not do.

A group of concerned gentlemen and city leaders went to Lord Vetinari to let him know this. 

Vetinari looked up at the gathering in his office.

“Hello gentlemen[iv],” he said and promptly fell silent, waiting….waiting….

“What are you thinking, having a woman lead the Watch?” Ah yes, Lord Venturi , blunt as always.

“Captain…Commander Vimes is one of the Watch’s most senior members as well as its most competent. There is no one else better qualified to be the head of the Watch than her.” Vetinari noted the flinches across the room of the use of the word ‘her’.[v]

“But a woman in charge of a storied and venerable institution as the Watch?[vi]” Lord Downey queried. “It is well known that women cannot handle such responsibility.”

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “I am sure that would be news to Mrs. Palm, Queen Molly, Mrs. Manger, and Miss Dixie, your fellow Guild-leaders. Of course, this also ignores the fact that Commander Vimes is currently busy organizing a recruitment campaign and setting up a network of Watch houses across the city. Or that she has been head of the Watch for the last several years.”

Lord Downey had to admit[vii] that he couldn’t argue against that. Not that he wanted to argue too much against the Patrician. Luckily, Lord Rust[viii] jumped ably into the fray, being both suicidally brave and having no sense.

“My lord, you CANNOT have some jumped up twat-“he started and was immediately silenced with a look from the Patrician.

“I will not have disrespect in this office. Do you hear me?”

Lord Rust, who had turned ashen, managed a mangled “y’s” and slunk back to his compatriots.

Vetinari smiled. “Very well. I am sure you gentlemen are very busy and have other things to do?”

————————————————————————————-

Within the first week they had four women come to join up.

Vimes smiled, and things slowly but surely started to change in Ankh Morpork.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
[i] It was a smile seen by fish right before the shark opened its mouth.

[ii] Women fought wonderfully dirty. Not to mention, the Watch was always, even at its founding, desperate for ANYONE to sign up.

[iii] They had a dwarf and a troll in the Watch for godssakes.

[iv] Slant surprisingly was not with them. But while he did not like Vimes, let alone a Vimes with a title and a position of command, he had to admit that it was not illegal for her to be head of the Watch.

[v] Not that he was deriving any amusement from their discomfort, of course not.

[vi] Or that bunch of ragtag rabblerousing bastards who got into everyone’s business as Downey thought of them, but he could keep a straight face in front of Vetinari.

[vii] Silently of course

[viii] His nose still unbroken, for now.


	15. Dress Code

Dress Code

They were walking back from a crime scene by the Thaumoturgical Park when Cheery cleared her throat and asked “Do…does it bother you that I dress up. I mean, you never have and…” Cheery trailed off, ostensibly not to hurt Vimes’ feelings, though that statement didnt bother her in the slightest.

Vimes took a drag on her cigar. Ever since she saw that Cheery had taken Angua into her confidence, she had been expecting this. She looked over at Cheery, and noticed that in addition to her worried face, she had on a leather skirt[1], studs in her ears, and light makeup.

“No” said Vimes. A moment or five of awkward silence and Cheery’s expectant look told her more was required to be said.

Vimes sighed, tossed her butt, and reached for another cigar from her case[2] and put it in her mouth.

“Are you wearing your armor and badge? Do your clothes impede you from doing your duty? As long as the answers are yes then no, I don’t care.[3]”

Cheery still didnt look convinced so she went on. “Don’t take your cue from me, in this case. I dress the way I dress because I don’t care.”

Vimes pulled out a match and lit her cigar. “We may be doing a “man’s” job but that doesn’t stop you or I or Angua or any other Watchman from being a woman. And y’know, it’s good for the lads to remember that we are women, and that we shouldn’t have to act like one of them if we don’t want to. We are women and we are Watchmen and we can be both just fine.”

Vimes blew a smoke ring as they rounded the corner. “So whatever you do or wear, do it because you want to. Don’t worry about bothering the men with your attire, and don’t go off me because I frankly could care less.”[4]

Cheery smiled, and with that they went into Pseudopolis Yard and back to work.

-  
Vimes was not one for makeup or jewelry or hair, but she was pleased to see that Cheery had obviously been talking, and everywhere, the women of the Watch, while still keeping it practical, began to wear small pieces of jewelry, a hint of makeup, hair in a fancier braid than normal.

 

Some of the lads grumbled, but rather pointed glares from her and Angua put a stop to that. But on the whole, life in the Watch rumbled on, with no big interruption, which made Sam glad.

Hell, Saul had a ton of his mother and grandmother’s jewelry lying about. Maybe she’d finally pierce her ears and wear those ruby studs she had found once.

Then she remembered that that would involve poking a needle through her ear and decided to leave the earrings to other Watchmen, thank you very much.  
——-

[1] quite possibly one of the most unsexiest skirts in the history of skirts, but a skirt

[2] it had turned up on her nightstand, with no ceremony, about a month or two after she had stopped drinking. The engraving inside, “all my love-Saul” said all that needed to be said.

[3] this was as far as the Watch got for a dress code: trying to enforce otherwise would be akin to trying to light a fire by throwing water on it

[4] Cheery remembered Angua saying the week before that Vimes had grown her hair out since she married Saul, but prudently decided not to mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a fic I’ve wanted to do for a while, but I’ve been a little worried about if I could pull it off or not. I’ve based the main idea of it behind this quote from Angua in Feet of Clay: “You can be any sex you like provided you act male. There’s no men and women in the Watch, just a bunch of lads.”
> 
> And then I thought that perhaps some of the women of the Watch would like to not have to subsume themselves in lad-dom, to be themselves.
> 
> Well, I hope that’s what you all get from this any way.


	16. Contrasts

Sam was loud, shouty, angry. Saul towered over her, but he never noticed it since Sam took up so much space on her own.

Not that he minded. He had no problem being the silence to Sam’s loud.


	17. Rings

The wedding ring on Saul's finger was a simple band of gold, with a tiny diamond inset into it. Sam had saved up many months before going into Scurrick's, on the Street of Cunning Artficers. Though, to be fair, it was easier now that she wasn't drinking her wages.

She had them carve inside only the word "Forever." She wasn't prone to sentiment or speaking her feelings freely, but Saul knew what was meant by it when she placed the ring on his finger.

—-

There was the wedding ring that Sam wore every day on her finger. It was a plain gold band, a practical ring for a hard working Watchman, though she got into the habit of twisting it round her finger for awhile.[1]

And then there was an engagement ring, worn on a chain under her armor and shirt, close to her heart[2], gold with a small ruby. For most, it would be a trifle, a small thing.

But it is very precious to Vimes, so she wears it safe and close to her heart, her actions telling Saul all he needs to know.

\------------------

[1] Sam never having worn jewelry until she was married. Saul had to laugh sometimes; his mother's jewel box contained pieces the ladies of Society would kill to have and Sam didn't even have her ears pierced.

[2] well, close to her heart-ish.


	18. Dartboard

Fred looked up from the curry he was eating at his desk to see a bald man covered in freckles and wearing a slightly moth eaten sweater looming over him.

“Hallo Sir Saul,” Colon said around a mouthful of curry,[1][2] part of which inadvertently went airborne and hit Saul’s sweater. “Sam isn’t in right now but if you wait around for another hour we’re pretty sure she’ll stop by to pick up more ciga-do paperwork.”

“Actually I’m here to drop something off,” Saul said, and showed Colon the slightly ratty box he was holding. Nobby, who had come in after Saul, looked at the box as well.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Saul grinned, and with one hand rummaged through the box until he held up a few darts. “Samantha was telling me that the House needed a new dartboard, and I had this one in the attic so I thought I would bring it by.”

Carrot, who had been on duty with Nobby since Angua was out sick, came in and Saul saw him. “Hallo Carrot! Would you like to break in the new board?”

Fifteen heads of various genders and species perked up at this. Carrot wasn’t really one to play darts, though he did like to watch and cheer people on in his own Carrot-y way and-

“Okay Sir Saul! But only if you join me for a game.”

Saul and Carrot walked to the breakroom and half of the Watch followed after to see them play.

It turned out Carrot didn’t play darts because he threw almost as hard as Detritus[3]. Saul and Carrot made it for two rounds of darts before

CRACK.

The dart board split into five pieces and fell on the floor. Carrot and Saul looked at each other, both blushing beet red.[4]

Vimes, who had come in to pick up more cigars looked at her officers, then her husband, then to the new dartboard lying broken on the ground.

“I’ll ask Vetinari for another one then, shall I?” she said.

\----------------

[1] Vimes’ husband had introduced himself as Saul, but…well, he was a toff, weren’t he? He couldn’t call a toff by their first name that would just be weird.

[2] Though he couldn’t quite manage Lord Ramkin-Vimes either because the fact that Saul took Sam’s name and not the other way around made Colon’s brain break a bit. 

[3] Well, technically Detritus hammered darts in rather than throwing them but either way same principle.

[4] Considering that both were over six and a half feet, it was a rather humorous sight.


	19. How Saul Broke Lord Rust's Nose

It was ironic that it was Sam, who hated her title, had been the one to bring him back in the social whirl of Ankh-Morpork high society. But as the Commander, and later the Duchess of Ankh, it was expected of them to go to the various functions and parties and so on.

He supposed as a man he could have ducked out of some of it, but, to be blunt, having been born in the class that he was, he needed to help Sam avoid various social bombshells[1].

And besides, he loved her. He would never abandon his wife to the sharks.

Not to mention that no matter how much she complained about her dress armor, he loved seeing how sharp she looked in it. And it was the rare time he got to do her hair up.

-

He had forgotten almost, however, that at some dinners the women would go into one room and the men the other.

He never really cared for this. The times that one of his lady friends came, he wouldn’t be able to have a after dinner chat with her. And on the whole, he could not stand the male elite of the City, nor they him. They thought he was a spineless, nancy, ponce who spent his days puttering about with his stupid dragons, and he thought, to adapt a term from his loving wife, they were on the whole a bunch of stupid, bigoted arseholes. And of course, they always made all matter of snide comments about him or his wife, thinking that he was too dumb to realize it or too soft to call them on it.

But conventional matters dictated that he at least spend an hour in the den before making his excuses, so he grit his teeth and bore it. Besides, if anything, the sherry was always good.[3]

Things changed, however, about three weeks after Sam became the Duchess of Ankh.

-  
Sam had already left at this point in the party at the Eorle’s house, there being a murder that her presence was required at. Probably for the better, Saul thought, thinking of his wife, who would probably insist on sitting in with the men.[4]

So the men had retired to the den. Lord Rust, who was already pretty sloshed from the course of dinner, continued to drink. This was rather surprisingly gauche of the man, but then he had rather lost a lot of face in the whole Leshp debacle.

It was when Rust started to ramble on about those damned Klatchians and that thrice damned Vetinari that it became obvious someone needed to cut him off.[5]

Saul looked around but it didn’t look like anyone was going to step up. Cowards. Ah well, down to him then.

“Rust…Ronald, perhaps this would be a good time to call for your carriage home?”

It was then that Rust said It.

“Oh sod off you poofter,” he slurred. “Everyone knows that your whore wife has fucked half the Watch and fucked Vetinari for her-“

That was as far as Ronald Rust got because Saul calmly stepped forward and punched Lord Rust in the face. He felt a nice crunch under his fist, and noted with pleasure that he just broke Rust’s nose.

Everyone was staring at him agog. For the first time, they realized that the man they had disdained for many years was almost as tall as Captain Carrot[6], and unlike many of them, Saul was still rather fit from all the heavy lifting and carrying that working with dragons entailed.

Saul towered over Rust-and since when did he tower? Everyone knew he was a pansy-and looked down at him.

“You will never speak of my wife like that ever again. Do you hear me?”

Rust didn’t respond, so Saul hauled him up one handed off the floor. “I said did. You. Hear. Me?

They stared at each other for a minute before Lord Rust looked away and mumbled “y’s”.

Saul held him up a moment longer, then unceremoniously dropped him to the floor and walked out.

——

The things that Rust had said, people still thought about Commander Samantha Vimes. But one look at Rust’s nose, which had healed very crooked, and a look at Saul, gentle, disarming Saul, and they never voiced them out loud from that point.

-

For her part, Sam, when she saw Rust for the first time, simply went up to her husband at home that night, and gave him a kiss.

“My hero,” she said smiling.

——

[1]not that she didn’t manage to set them off anyway, but he could at least say he tried before Sam went off and did things like make Lady Venturi faint from an “indelicate”comment or break the Howondaland ambassador’s wrist for pinching her ass.[2]

[2] he had thought she was “some jumped up claptrap copper that didn’t know her place” which did not help things. Saul felt slightly better about the idiots they occasionally sent abroad, now that he knew other countries did the same.

[3]that he drank sherry as opposed to scotch or whiskey, endeared him less to his peers, perhaps, but Saul saw no point in drinking things he hated the taste of for the look of it

[4] Sam was rather confused the first time this happened, and had explained to Saul that where SHE was from, there was none of this separate bullshi-foolishness. “I go in with you from now on. I hate all those buggers, but I still have slightly more things to discuss with them than their wives.”

[5] In men of their position, Vetinari did not mind seditious remarks. He would just have some way of finding out what was said, recording it, and then reminding you of it at the most inopportune moment.

[6] it was rather comical to see Saul walk hand in hand with Sam, considering he was 6’4” and she was 5’2”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this is a way expanded chapter of a previous baby one I did a while back. I just couldn't not describe Saul breaking Lord Rust's nose.


	20. Diet

Saul had gotten Sam to give up the drinking relatively easy. He didn’t much care for the smell of the absolutely vile cigars she found to smoke, but he knew that she needed something in the place of alcohol, and simply asked her to just smoke outside.

The bacon was proving to be a harder fight.

He got the feeling that it would be easier if he were the wife and she the husband.He tried to impart the importance of eating well upon his wife, who smiled slightly condescendingly and said that she had been eating at Hagra's all these years and never had any problem. He then tried to talk with Cheery, who he knew brought Sam food at work about maybe bringing her a salad instead, but she just nodded and smiled and, Saul just knew, kept bringing her those dratted BLT’s.

Well, at least he could get some quinoa and museli in her at the house, as long as he provided the massive amounts of chutney and mustards and pickles she required to eat any of it.


	21. Society

It never failed to surprise foreign dignitaries [1] when instead of His Grace, the Duke of Ankh, Lord Saul Vimes and his wife they got instead…

“Her Grace, Commander Samantha Vimes, Duchess of Ankh, and her husband Sir Saul Ramkin-Vimes.”[2]

And then Vimes had the temerity not to show up in a dress but in her Watch uniform.The brazen classless woman didn’t even wear a skirt in place of breeches, or heels in place of boots.[3]

And when it came time for dancing-well. It just looked positively indecent, two people in men’s clothes dancing. And one of those dancers was Ankh-Morpork’s formerly most prominent confirmed bachelor, and the other was a woman who clearly didn’t know her place as befit her gender and then this was usually when people decided to take a break at the punch bowl.

—-

Sam, when she realized after her first dance why everyone was so discomfited, made sure to not quibble when she was announced as the Duchess of Ankh, and put extra effort into shining her dress armor, to make it that much more noticeable.

Then Saul decided to join in on the fun by only choosing ties, cravats, and the like in soft pastel colors, like seafoam green and delicate pink.[5] Lord Rust turned purple in the face the first time he saw Saul in his new colors, but then touched his crooked nose and decided to go to the other part of the room instead.

So of course, Sam then had to one up him by adding a tie to the nice shirt she wore under her stupid dress armor.

They decided to leave it at that when Saul added a carnation to his outfit, to prevent a total meltdown of the high society of Ankh-Morpork.

If Sam had to participate in all of this stupid fuss and muss, then damn if she couldn’t wring some enjoyment out of it.

Besides, it wasn’t like Lord Vetinari said anything, other than raise an eyebrow of slight inquisition.

So Saul showed up to every function, dance, and event in light green or pink accoutrement, and Sam made sure that her dress boots were as big and chunky and in no way delicate as possible, and together they both enjoyed the sight of snobs trying to hide their utter revulsion.  
——

[1] and the ton of Ankh-Morpork, practiced in willful ignorance when it came to Commander Sam Vimes

[2] and didn’t people titter and mutter at that. Though after Saul rearranged Lord Rust’s nose, people now thought twice about saying anything to Saul’s face

[3] though it was the dreaded dress armor. Vimes had fought long and hard against it until Saul pointed out that unfortunately, as both the Commander of the Watch and the Duchess of Ankh, she HAD to dress up a bit.[4] So she had the stupid gilt armor, but she managed to argue the rest down to a nice pair of black breeches and a white shirt, with new boots.

[4] It was almost worth it though, when Sam stepped out for her first engagement in the whole rigmarole and Saul just gaped at her for a minute before taking her in his arms and simply saying “You look beautiful, Samantha Vimes.”

 

[5] “Saul, people were originally made dukes and duchesses for winning wars. They sure as hell didn’t do it in an embossed breastplate.”


	22. Sweater

Sam was never one to do birthdays, and wasn’t any more inclined towards hers now that she was married.

Saul of course had other ideas, though in deference to Sam’s feelings limited himself to a small present and a nice dinner.[1]

The birthday after that whole mess with Leshp, Saul presented her with a package that went crinkly at her touch, with a look of anticipation on his face reserved for the arrival of a new stud at the pens.

He grinned. “Open it!”

She did and pulled out a giant woolen sweater.

“I asked Jenny, one of the gels in the kitchen if she’d show me how to knit and…”

He trailed off as he realized Sam was still looking at her sweater. It was red, a color that if she were ever to admit to having a favorite color would be it. It was far too big for her; she pulled it on and was immediately swallowed by thick red wool. It was rather thick and knotted all over, as Saul still didnt know how to knit. It itched rather much.

No one had ever made Sam anything before, not even her Mum, who was busy making sure they had enough to simply eat.

Sam wasn’t usually physically demonstrative, so Saul was pleasantly surprised to have his wife rocket into him and hug and kiss him fiercely.

Later, lying in Saul’s arms wearing only the sweater, she reached up and gave him a kiss on the nose.

“Thank you”

Two months later, a visit to Mrs Content made Sam realize that the sweater wasn’t the only thing she received on her birthday.

\------------------------

[1] though a little imp of the perverse in him also had a big bouquet of flowers to her office at Pseudopolis Yard. Watchmen learned not to mention them but Sam could still hear various muffled “awwwws” every year.


	23. Pregnant

Vimes walked out of Mrs Content’s in a daze. She began to walk home on autopilot, trusting her feet to get her there and her hindbrain to alert her to any trouble while she was thinking about

Baby.

She was going to have a baby.

She was having Saul’s baby.

They were going to have a child.

Gods. Vimes’ mind reeled as she absently rubbed her armor where her stomach was under. She went to Mrs Content because she thought she had become too old for this nonsense, not that she actually was[1]….

Pregnant.

Knocked up as they’d say on Cockbill Street or “in a delicate condition” the oiks she had to deal with said of their wives.

She reached for her cigar case then cursed and put her hand down. Even before she showed everyone in the City would know because she had to stop the smoking.

If Angua didn’t smell it first.

And of course she had to tell Saul and she had to tell Saul and…

What was she going to tell Saul?

He had mentioned kids before, it was true, but when confronted with a pregnant wife…Saul was 46, she was 42, and neither of them were getting any younger. As for her, what did she have to offer? She was a cynical, washed up alcoholic, all around miserable bugger. Normally that didnt bother her but a kid? A child? Someone little and small whose life she could mess up in oh so many ways?

Her mind kept running in circles until Saul’s call of “Samantha!”[2] brought her to.

———

Saul knew something was up when his wife walked in, took off her armor, changed to her red sweater and a pair of his old trousers, and ate dinner, all without saying a word to him with that far off look on her face.

It was a look he had never seen before. Usually when Sam shut down, it was usually a prelude to some arse kicking, not this wild eyed, about to bolt silence.

So when she had settled on the couch and continued spacing, he called her name.

She was so jolted out of her reverie that she immediately blurted out “I’m pregnant,” to her indescribably shocked spouse.

“What?”

Sam took a deep breath. “I went to Mrs Content today about some…things, and she told me we are having a baby and-“

She was interrupted by Saul wordlessly lifting her shirt up, looking at her stomach and then kissing it gently.

“You…aren’t upset?” his wife said shakily.

He lifted his head up to look at her. “Samantha Vimes, why on earth would I be upset?”

“You and I are…older and what if we can’t keep up?”

Saul laughed. “We aren’t THAT old. And even if we were, we’d manage somehow, I’m sure.” But there was something else bothering her, he was sure of it, all he had to do was wait and

“What….what if I’m a bad mum?” Sam asked in a small, quiet voice[3]. “I’m a dried up, mean, old son of a bitch-and don’t look at me like that Saul, I know this about myself. What can I give to a baby but bad and-“

A tear [4] slipped down Vimes’ cheek, and Saul wiped it away.

“You will be a good mum Sam, because you are the best person that I know[5], and no matter what you’ll love our baby and it will be fine.”

“Really?”

“Really. If only because when our baby starts dating you can scare any knucklehead away from them easily.”

This got the desired laugh he wanted from his wife.Sam smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “Thank you, Saul.”

She leaned back on the couch and her hand joined Saul’s on her stomach.

“We’re having a baby Saul.”

—-

Two days later Vetinari called her and Carrot to his office, and told her he was sending her to Überwald.

 

———  
[1] and learned wayyyyyy too much about her Mum when she told Mrs Content she was too old to have a baby and the woman blurted out “nah your mum didnt stop her bleeds til she was 50!” Well, good to know for her own self but still.

[2] Saul only used her full name when he really needed her attention. It wasn’t that she hated the name Samantha, it just never felt like it fit her as well as Sam did.

[3]that most Watchmen would not have believed could come from Commander Vimes

[4] and that’s when Saul truly believed for the first time that Sam was pregnant, considering that he had never seen her cry. Ever.

[5] which Sam both always refused to believe, but kept attempting to live up to the woman her husband thought she was.


	24. Confrontation

The first sign of trouble was when Saul walked in and addressed him as “Lord Vetinari” instead of his usual greeting of “Havelock!”

The second was when he tested the waters by asking “Does the Commander know you are here” and got the terse answer, “No, my wife didn’t know I would be by, my lord Patrician.”[1]

Vetinari got his third and final sign, when, being more surprised at the anger he felt coming off of Saul than he thought he’d be, forgot the reason Saul was here in his office and said, “I understand that congratulations are in order, Lord Ramkin-Vimes?”

Saul exploded.

“How dare you give me that? You’ve known since you called her in two months ago. What the Hells were you thinking, sending my pregnant wife to Überwald ?

——  
Vetinari had met Saul for the first time at a party that Lord Ramkin was hosting, a year or two after Vetinari had failed to save a man called John Keel, and a year or two before he took the office for himself.

Most everyone shied away from him, not-knowing that he not-killed the last Patrician.

Saul just walked over and introduced himself, then invited him for a drink in the study.

“You do realize I do not drink?” he asked as Saul closed the door behind him.

“I figured as much but it got us both out of there didn’t it?” Saul replied.

And as far as Saul was concerned, they were friends from that day on.

He was the only person, besides a letter from his aunt, to genuinely congratulate him on gaining the Patricianate.

He was probably one of only five or six people in Ankh-Morpork who wasn’t in the slightest bit scared of him.

He was one of the only people who still called him Havelock.

———

He looked up to see Saul looming over him. The mistake many people made about the Ramkin-Vimeses, Vetinari had found, was in assuming that Sam was the one to watch out for, and Saul was just dumb and kind.[2] And it was certainly true that you never, ever, wanted to cross Commander Samantha Vimes, not if you valued your life or well being.

But just because the man was extraordinarily self-effacing did not mean he was an idiot, not by a long shot. And he was kind, yes, and extraordinarily patient, this was true.

That just meant when he got mad, Saul Ramkin-Vimes got really mad.

“You cannot tell me that you did not know, Havelock. I know you have a tail on my wife-how can you not when she makes so many important people mad? And I am sure your little spy told you all about how she stopped by Mrs Content’s. Hell, even if they didn’t, I’m sure you saw some little tells in Sam and figured it out within thirty seconds of her coming into the office.”[3]

His voice dropped. “I didn’t think my friend would send my wife, my child, into danger.”

“But I did,” Vetinari finally spoke.

There was silence for a second.

“Why?” Saul asked.

Vetinari looked out the window. He supposed that he could give a grand, eloquent speech about the greater good, and the health of the city, and the vast improvement on the world stage that the couple had made in their trip to Uberwald. But Saul was his fri- a very important person, and deserved a short, honest answer.

“I did, and I would do it again. Your wife was needed in Uberwald, and what she helped do has made the world, I do not want to say a better place, but certainly has put things on the right path. I would die for this city, Lord Ramkin-Vimes, and you know as well as I that Commander Vimes would do the same.”

Saul looked at him with blue eyes gone icy. “You would have her sacrifice the life of our child, potentially?”

Vetinari nodded. “Yes.”

Saul closed his eyes once, then opened them again. “That would break her.”

There was silence again in the room.

It was Lord Ramkin, the richest man in the city, the largest holder of property on both sides of the Ankh, holder of the oldest title in the city, and possessor of the largest private armory who broke it.

“You will not put Sam in that position again. She stays here, in the city, until the baby is one. Do you understand?”[4]

Vetinari looked at Saul for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

“Agreed”.

Saul walked out without a word.

It would be three months before Vetinari saw him again.

 

——  
[1] A little Vimes popped up in Vetinari’s head to say “damn, you really pissed Saul off-” before he shooed her away.

[2] And according to many society gossips, using Sam as a beard. To prevent bloodshed, Saul did his best to make sure that Sam didn’t hear that little tidbit.

[3] Vetinari had often thought that Saul’s father, the bigoted, short-sighted buffoon, had made a massive mistake in sending him to Huddlestone’s instead of the Assassin’s School. He always felt that Saul would have done rather well there.

[4] He wanted to say never. It killed him not to. But gods damn it all to hell, he knew deep down that Vetinari was right. He hated Vetinari for being right but he was right. That being said, damn if he wouldn’t keep his wife in the city while she was pregnant at least.


	25. Godsfather

The next time Vetinari saw Lord Ramkin-Vimes, he came into the office with a “Hallo Havelock!”

Vetinari relaxed ever so slightly. It seemed he would let bygones be bygones.

“Hello Sir Saul. What brings you here today?”[1]

Saul sat down. “I, er, we were wondering if you would be the the baby’s godsfather.”

Vetinari froze. “I….see.”[3]

He regained his footing quickly. “I am surprised the Commander has not suggested one of her longtime comrades.”

“Yes well….”

-  
“What about Fred? You’ve known him the longest?”

Sam sighed and folded her hands on her belly[4]. “My feet have been my feet for 42 years but I’m not going to make them the godsfather.” Fred was one of her oldest friends, true, just not someone she wanted raising her child.

She plopped her feet onto Saul’s lap and he began massaging one[5]. “What about Carrot?” he asked.

Sam thought about earnest, no-understanding-of-irony, straight laced Carrot raising a child of hers and shuddered inwardly. She feinted. “He’s a good man, yes, but he and Angua may have their own family one day.”

Saul raised an eyebrow[6] but went on. “Nobby?”

They looked at each other for a second then shuddered.

“No”

“No”

They went on, Sam shooting down every person that he brought up. Finally, Saul asked, “Do you have anyone in mind?” “No,” Sam said flatly. Anyone else would have bought that, but Saul had been married to Sam long enough to notice that whenever she lied, one of her fingers twitched.

Saul suddenly knew who his wife wanted. She was just far too stubborn to ever admit it.

Saul smiled; he agreed with Sam’s choice. He took her other foot in hand and started rubbing. Sam made a happy noise[7]. “Trust me to take care of it,” he asked.

“This is cheating, asking me now,” Vimes said, blissed out, but she nodded.

-

Saul went on blithely. “We don’t think they would be a good fit. And I’ve known you for 30 years, and Sam about the same. I know if anything happened to us you would take care of our child. So what do you say?”

Vetinari opened his mouth to say “Thank you for the honor Sir Saul, but I will need some time before making a final decision,” then spending a few weeks weighing the political ramifications of his being a godsfather to the child of the Commander of the Watch As well as the fact that he hadn’t been near children since he was one, the potential of someone using his godschild to get to him[8], and several dozen other issues and factors.

What came out instead was “Yes.”

Saul smiled.

-  
Sam grumbled a bit, but Saul figured they were just a token sign of protest to satisfy her pride, so he knew he made the right choice.  
—————

[1] it was the rare occasion that Vetinari genuinely had no idea. His spies had reported that Saul was heading his way, but he hadn’t called Vimes in for anything else other than her regular reports.[2] Honestly, he had thought their frien-association was finished.

[2] and to congratulate her on her pregnancy which went as well as could be expected

[3] had he been anyone else, like say a doctor in a pinstripe suit, he would have said a flat “what”

[4] which she seemed to regard as a portable table.

[5] Vimes was rather disgruntled to find the further along she got, the more her feet betrayed her by swelling and hurting.

[6] Vimes knew that Saul saw no problem with Carrot as a godsfather. Saul and Carrot got on rather well, probably because they were both ridiculously likable and knew an absurd amount of people.

[7] which since you insist of knowing sounded like “mmmmmmwarblgarbl”

[8] though considering that the baby’s mother was Sam Vimes, a very stupid someone.


	26. Maternity Clothes

The inevitable happened when Sam was about five and a half months along, and Saul was awoken one morning to the clang of metal being pitched across the room, followed by the foulest, most degenerate bout of swearing he had ever heard, let alone that it was coming from his wife. He sighed, got up, and reached for the package he had gotten for this eventuality.

When he got to Sam’s dressing room, he prudently ignored the pile of armor that no longer fit his wife or the one angry tear that had managed to escape on his wife’s face. He proffered the package that he had made two weeks ago.

“It’s armor you can wear now that you are…you’re….”

Sam smiled despite herself, taking the package. “Pregnant you mean? Come now Saul , you breed swamp dragons, you know the word.”

She shook it out. It was leather, with metal plates inside, and in the shape of an apron.

Maternity armor. He’d gotten her maternity armor. With another not-tear not-making its way down her cheek, she slipped it over her head. It was still massive and she saw where there was a built in belt that would help keep it tight until she was further along.

She looked at Saul, in a rare state of shock. He had been pressing her to do more desk work than she already was and to stay at home more. When her armor wouldn’t fasten this morning, she thought she was looking at three months away from the Watch.

Away from her duty.

Away from Ankh-Morpork.

Saul leaned into kiss her and to cinch her belt tight. “I had a think and…well, you’re the best damn Watchman this city has ever seen. It would be a shame and a crime to keep you from your duty. So I will settle for keeping you as safe as can be.”

He leaned back, looking at Sam. “That being said, I still think it’d be a good idea for you to stay at the desk a bit more.”

Sam smiled. “Perhaps you are right; see how everyone does without me on the streets for a month or two.” Her grin got sharper, thinking about the room for improvement she was going to be sure to see in her newer officers.

Of course, voluntarily choosing to do more desk work and being remanded to the desk for the rest of her pregnancy by Lord Vetinari were two completely different things.

She had never punched a hole clean through the wall outside his office before, but like maternity armor, there was a first time for everything.


	27. Preparations

 

They were in the attic looking for things that could go in the nursery [1], when Sam felt the baby kick.

It was a good one too, so she couldn’t help but let out a little ‘oof!’.

Saul came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back into his chest, a novel experience for her [2].

He put one hand on her stomach, just in time for the baby to move again.

She looked up at him. “It feels like I have a giraffe in there. I blame you."

Saul smiled.

__________________

[1] This wasn’t hard as the Ramkins could perhaps be described in some universes as ‘hoarders’

[2] She was standing on a stepladder to reach something, and thus was able to lean into his chest, as opposed to his stomach, which was more common.


	28. Baby Shower

When Commander Vimes was about eight months along [1], Carrot looked at Angua when they were getting ready for work and exclaimed, “I’ve organized a baby shower for the Commander!”

Angua looked at his guileless face and wondered where on the Disc he had heard about that tradition. Or if he genuinely thought that Samantha Vimes would want one. But she knew from long experience that Carrot had already gotten a date and place picked out, and invited the entire Watch.

And sure enough, he continued with “It’s going to be next week and I made sure to have everyone she’s known for a long time there and there will be cake and games and-“

Angua raised her hand. “No games.”

Carrot looked wounded. “But I found some great baby related games we could play and everyone likes games!”

Angua thought about Vimes’ reaction to something like “Pin the Sonky on the Right Father!”[2]

“Trust me on this Carrot. Just…no”

He still looked perturbed but nodded.

-  
Sam Vimes was sick and tired of being pregnant.

She didn’t have a quarrel with the end results-she longed, with an intensity that surprised her, to hold her son or daughter in her arms.

But the actual process of having the baby? She hated it.

She had been remaindered by godsdamned Vetinari to ride a desk until she had the baby [3]. She was never one to really care about her looks, but she was getting really tired of wearing her maternity armor [4]. And her feet, her lifelong allies, had suddenly betrayed her by swelling up.

Not to mention the future apple of her eye liked to kick her in her bladder.

She had never thrown up so much in her life, even when she drank. She couldn’t even have a smoke.

And it was all anyone, everyone, wanted to talk to her about. She was heartily sick of being asked the same three questions over and over again, and how she was expected to turn into a gooey, trite, sentimental mushbag [5] once she squeezed a sack of potatoes out of a hole the size of a cup opening.

She wanted as little fuss about the whole thing as possible, which is why Saul didn’t ask her to go to the baby shower his girlfriends threw for him [6]. None of that for her thank you very much.

Walking into the mess, and seeing almost the entire Watch arrayed there [7], with a banner and cake and presents-but, thank the gods, no games-and Carrot beaming, Vimes knew there was no way she was going to have this baby without some fuss [8].

So she let Carrot steer her to a chair, and put a piece of cake in her hands, and proceeded to talk and open presents and have a surprisingly good time.

-

Another reason she didn’t see the need to have a baby shower was that Saul’s family, in addition to being richer than Creosote, never threw anything away. Saul and her had spent a surprisingly enjoyable day two weeks ago going though the attic and bringing down things for the nursery.[9] They even had clothes that Saul and his parents and grandparents wore as infants.[10]

So she felt a wee bit guilty seeing a small pile of presents emerge after cake.

She was about to say something, but she looked at everyone’s faces, and how…happy they were. Happy for her, their cranky old lush of a commander. They didnt have to do any of this, even with Carrot’s prodding, they just wanted to.

Her traitorous eyes began to tear up, but luckily she reeled those suckers in just as Colon put his gift on her lap.

It was a surprisingly practical pack of diapers. “I know when we had ours that was one thing we always needed,” he said. She looked at at Fred and realized, gods, he had grandchildren. And he was only ten years older than her and she was going to stop this line of thought before she was thoroughly weirded out and needed a lie down.  
-

She held up the onesie[11] that Igor had made.

“Er…why are there four pants legs?” she asked.

Igor grinned. “There is alwayth room for improthment!”

Vimes’ stomach flip-flopped but she managed a “Thank you”[12]

-  
“I’m sure when she [13] learns to read will treasure this,” Vimes managed to say with a straight face to Constable Visit, putting the Book of Om he had given her on her pile of gifts.

-

Nobby got the baby a spoon.

It wasn’t until a month later that she realized the significance of that.

-

Carrot’s gift surprised her. He, Angua, Cheery, and a few others teamed up to make

“Carrot and I noticed they have things like “My Little Barbarian” and “My Little Trespasser”[14],” Angua explained as Carrot plopped a box in front of Vimes, “and Carrot thought of doing this instead.”

Vimes opened the box to find a little wooden sword, a little shield made out of pot metal, a crocheted truncheon, a small shield, and a smaller version of her own badge.

She stared at it for a full minute, until Cheery asked, “er, is it okay?”

Vimes looked up, a single tear [15] tracking down her face. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”[16]

-

Saul laughed when Sam came home with presents in arm and leftover cake in a box.

“I thought you didn’t want a shower?” he asked, a big grin on his face.

Sam scowled half-heartedly. “Oh shush.”

——--------------------

[1] and very adamantly Not Enjoying It

[2] Morporkians were rather more forthright in telling their children the facts of life. And if a stork landed in the city, it would more likely than not appear on someone’s plate soon after.

[3] And if he thought he could pull that trick on her after she had the baby, he was sorely mistaken.

[4] She loved that she had it, that her husband was thoughtful enough to have it made for her, but it did not change the fact that she felt like a giant walking tent with it on.

[5] Luckily, not by her Watchmen, who at any case had seen far too many Vimes blow ups to ever think of her as sweet or brainless.

[6] “What on the disc could they get us that you don’t already have in the attic?” Sam had asked. Saul just smiled and went on about more recent baby clothes, and how it was really an excuse to have tea and cake, and so on.

[7] and then hearing “SURPRISE” said not entirely in unison.

[8] And, though she would never admit it, she was a little touched.

[9] he didn’t say anything about heavy lifting or try to stop her and in turn she didnt raise a fuss about Saul asking Willikins to help with the crib and other furniture instead of her.

[10] “What we have we keep,” Saul said wryly, seeing the look on his wife’s face. Sam, in turn, decided to not mention the times she and Dorfl had to dig some poor nutter out of their apartment.

[11] Sam rather liked these, as opposed the all the little gowns and dresses Saul brought down from the attic that just begged to be tripped over or catch on things.

[12] not wanting to be rude, they did put Little Sam in it a few times, the extra legs looking like gigantic inside out pockets.

[13] Vimes didn’t know of course what the baby would be but she had a feeling it was going to be a girl.

[14] sanctioned by the guild because exploring….no, damn it, ‘trespassing’ wasn’t bringing in the money it used to.

[15] stupid, traitorous eyes

[16] not only did it turn out to be one of Little Sam’s favorite toys, but thanks to the Ramkin hoarding gene, it was also the favorite of Samantha’s four children, and all of their children as well.


	29. Night Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....
> 
> I ended up doing a whole version of Night Watch in my verse.
> 
> This ended up being way longer than I thought it would be.
> 
> As this relies more heavily on the books than my other fic, I feel it especially proper now to mention the usual fanfic legalese of "this really all belongs to Terry Pratchett, please don't sue me, kthxbai."

Samantha Vimes sighed when she heard the scream, then a splash. She won the battle she was having with her bootlaces to do them up[1][2], then went to the cesspit to investigate.

There was a young person paddling in circles in the muck. No, a young lady.[3] “Good morning your grace!”

Vimes replied cheerfully, “Good morning lass! And it’s just ma’am. You are?”

” Jocasta Wiggs!” She replied equally cheerfully, or as cheerful as one could be in a cesspit.

“Wiggs….ah yes. I think I broke one of your dad’s legs once.”[4]

“Yes and he said to say hi…my the edges of this pool are quite slippery,”

“I imagine that they are lass,” Vimes replied, having spent a rare free afternoon with Saul repairing the brickwork around the cesspit.

“And I wasn’t expecting the tiles to slide from under me either.”

“Most aren’t…” Gods she was sixteen. A certain sixteen year old flashed in Vimes’ mind and disappeared again. “Aren’t you a bit young to be out on a contract?”

“Not a contract ma’am! Class work! I had to get you in my sight and report back! Miss Band said I was getting overconfident and I needed some field experience.”

She caught the skeptical look on Vimes’ face. “Your contract is in abeyance ma’am. Assassin’s honor.”

Abeyance? Damn. It wasn’t that she liked getting shot and prodded at, especially now with a baby on the way.[5][6][7][8] But it was a good way to keep track that she was annoying the people that needed annoying.

“Tell you what lass. I’ll have someone come pull you out and hose you down.”

“Thanks Commander!”

She returned to the house to put her damned dress armor on when the scent of lilacs rolled over her.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn it all. It was that time of year, wasn’t it? She….didn’t forget so much as willfully not think about it for most of the year.

She picked a sprig and rubbed her stomach thoughtfully, staring into the distance, and thinking about endings.

She looked down.

And beginnings

——————————————————————

There were things you probably should not do when nine months pregnant.

Running from the Patrician’s office to the University was one of them.

She had to slow down in Sator Square, because for a terrifying second she thought she felt a pain in her back that presaged the beginning of impending labor.

“Please, not now,” she thought at her stomach as she made it to Cheery.

Because wouldn’t it figure that some arsehole like Carcer would pop up now, and not earlier or after?

Pure Vimes luck.

——-

“Buggy says he’s stopped moving ma’am.” Cheery reported.

Vimes froze.

The smart thing would be to let her officers handle this arrest, to do the chasing and the fighting.

She was pregnant. Very much so.

But she was a copper. Before Sam the Mum, Sam the Wife, there was Sam the Copper.

She would always be a copper. And Carcer was a copper killer.

She would not have that. Not in her city[9]

No one else could do this. It had to be her, because anyone else would get themselves killed.

But she was nine months along and there was that twinge in her back again and she trusted her officers so she would send them and oh gods her mouth had opened and out came “And now you can give me your crossbow Constable because I’m going in there after him.”

Cheery looked at Vimes agape.

“But…but…the baby!”

Cheery was talking to thin air though, as Vimes had taken off.

——————————————————————

In another, more familiar Discworld, Samuel Vimes and Carcer travelled through time after crashing through a glass window at the University.

In a closer to this-but-not-quite-Discworld, Samantha Vimes and Carcer travelled through time after crashing through a glass window at the University, and things don’t end well when you are about to give birth and have crashed through a glass window and we will leave it at that.

So in this universe, Samantha Vimes and Carcer were fighting in the Library proper,[10] and merely went through a doorway when they travelled through time.

She still wakes up with a giant gash across her face.[11]

——————————————————————

It was later. Pain had happened.[12]

Vimes laid on the hard cell bed curled around her stomach, and tried her best to ignore it. Thank all the gods they hadn’t tried to beat her. Even if it was a half-assed beating like she knew they gave out in these days, if they had gone anywhere near her torso she probably would have killed them. Because here and now, in the past and past due[13], the Beast was out.

She did not like to think about it much, but there was that part of her that wanted to hurt long after hurting achieved its effect, that let out would probably burn the whole damn city down. It scared her shitless, it was part of her down to her bones and blood, and she called it the Beast.  Pain brought it out, and fear, and now the very thought of someone laying one hand on her stomach.  

Last time she let it out, she had killed werewolves with her bare hands.

And now it was out and sniffing the air.

Shit.

——————————————————————

If it weren’t for the complete utter panic and terror Saul was having for his wife and child as Ridcully and Captain Carrot explained what had happened, he would have laughed.

Not for his wife a normal pregnancy, no. It was perhaps inevitable that something like her getting catapulted back in time with a mass murderer would happen within days of her due date.

Samantha Vimes could never do things the easy way.

——————————————————————

"You're thinking, 'blow me, I'm going to be the one to mentor myself,'" said Lu-Tze.

Sam glared at Lu-Tze.

“Yes, I was thinking that. I was also thinking about how on the Disc that would work, considering that the John Keel I remember was not pregnant. Or a woman for that matter.”

——————————————————————

“Now, we know that your, er, condition-“

“That I’m pregnant and about to pop?” Vimes interrupted. She went to clutch for her cigar case[14], then cursed when she realized that was stolen off her as well.

Her heart ached. Saul, the man she loved was out there, still trapped under the thumb of that absolute turd of a father, Lord Ramkin.[15]

“Yes,” Qu said and went on. “Luckily I have here a device-” and he pulled it out despite the waving motions and head shaking Lu-Tze was suddenly doing behind Vimes.

“A device that would simply reverse time in the area of your stomach to say about a year ago and-“

Vimes cut him off, eyes wild and a hand around her stomach. “No.”

Qu, bless him, sometimes really did not have much in the way of common sense, just kept going on.”It wouldn’t hurt the baby at all! And we would be able to put it right back when-“

He stopped at the look on Vimes’ face, which had gone into lockdown and was radiating chill[16].

“You. Will not. Go. Near. My. Baby.”

Her hands were twitching, either to rip the instrument from Qu’s hands or to reach for her non-existent sword, but Lu-Tze figured it was a good time to talk with Vimes on his own.

-

“I don’t understand why she was so upset,” he told Lu-Tze later.

The old monk just stared at him. Qu snorted. “No aphorism this time?”

Lu-Tze shook his head. “Qu, EVERYONE knows not to go between a mother and her baby.”

Especially if that mother is Samantha Vimes, he thought to himself.

——————————————————————

Finally Lu-Tze remembered something that would solve Vimes’ problem.  
  
“I may have a solution,” he said and Vimes’ head whipped towards him.  
  
“Oh?” she asked, hand still on her stomach.  
  
“I will just need to get it from the University.”  
  
She winced[17] then nodded[18]  
  
-  
It took him no time at all[19] to cut through the frozen city and reach a back cupboard of the University. Thank goodness he had seen this thing in action sweeping one day 30 years from now. And that he was sweeping a further 120 years later when they figured out what it was.  
  
In this time, the Cabinet of Curiosity sat forgotten in the recesses of the University, still waiting to be rediscovered.  Lu-Tze had to unblock the door before he was able to get in.  
  
The Cabinet sat on its claw feet, covered in an inch of dust. Lu-Tze had to take a minute to resist the urge to clean the damn thing off before he went up and wrapped on its top.  
  
“Oi, you. Wake up.”  
  
The Cabinet gave an almost imperceptible shake.

Lu-Tze went on. “I need armor a nine-month pregnant woman can wear. Odd, I know, but I think you can manage.”

The Cabinet stuck out a drawer full of Sonkies, like a tongue, and then promptly pulled it back in.

Lu-Tze frowned. “Listen you. Stop playing silly buggers. I know you can give me what I need. Now hand it over.”

An air of menace briefly emitted from the Cabinet.

“I know what you are. You want to be used. You NEED to be used. And right now you aren’t. But a few years on, the wizards are going to find you, and they are going to poke and prod and open you till your heart’s content.”

The Cabinet shivered.

“None of that is going to happen though without that armor. And if you don’t give it to me, not only will the wizards not find you in a few years, I will make sure that they don’t find you. Ever.”

There was a tense moment-the Cabinet, despite being a piece of furniture, was doing its damned best to eyeball Lu-Tze.

Finally, a drawer slid out, containing a giant leather apron. Lu-Tze knew though that it was as good, if not better than metal armor. The Cabinet was good for things like that. Vimes wouldn’t like it but she would also be too practical to turn it down.

As the Cabinet slid shut, he further admonished “It’s going to be a few days. Don’t pull any of that 14.14 hours crap you give everyone else. “

The Cabinet sulked, and slid out a drawer with an iconograph of a hand with a pinky extended in it.

Lu-Tze nodded. “I promise that I will have this back within a few days. Hells, I’ll move you to a different, less off the path closet.”

There was an air of consent from the Cabinet, and Lu-Tze turned to go.

The future[20] depended on keeping Vimes in one piece. He just was glad the Cabinet cooperated.

——————————————————————

After kidneys for breakfast, Sergeant-at-Arms Joanna Keel stepped out into the first day of the rest of her life.[21]

She stood still for a minute, shut her eyes, and ground her feet into the street below her.

She grinned. Proper boots again!

Not that she didn’t love the compromise boots that Saul had made for her a few years ago…ahead…er, yeah.[22] Anyway, the boots that had thin soles and heavy tops so that she could feel the street and still have dry feet and a worry-free husband.

But they weren’t quite like having soles so thin she could feel the myriad varieties of cobblestone, stone slab, stuff that was not meant to be used as street material but got used any way, gravel, rubble, sewer lids, and everything else that made up the streets of the City.

She could feel the City in her sole.

She was back.

Then the moment was a bit ruined by the fact that the baby decided to kick her in the bladder..

——————————————————————

Quirke’s finger shot out and quavered at Young Sam Vimes.

“She shared it! She shared it! Ask her, not me!”

Vimes felt the shock run through the whole room. Quirke had just committed suicide.

You did NOT Drop Your Mates in the Cacky. That was Watchmen’s honor, however poor and tatty and worn it might be.

You especially did not do it to someone who was not only a rookie who didn’t know any better, but a girl as well. Because no matter how much you moaned and groaned about a gel joining the Watch behind her back, when push came to shove, that Sam Vimes was a Watchman.

She turned for the first time, to the young woman she had been avoiding, who was currently sheet white and looking like she was about to pass out.

“Gods, was I ever that scrawny? Why did I chop my own hair off; Ma was willing to do it for me. Did I really try and polish that rusty thing they assigned to me?”

This…this was going to be interesting.

——————————————————————

Vimes preferred to walk by herself.

And now there were two of her, walking by herselves[23] and oh gods Young Sam wasn’t even doing it right.

“No lass, not like that,” she said. “Swing your foot like this and you’ll be able to keep going all day. It’s not about speed, it’s about staying steady, and taking the time to notice things.”

“Yes sarge,” said Young Sam.

Her younger self wasn’t saying much, which made good sense.

“Who gave you that bell lass?” she asked after a bit.

“Sergeant Knock gave it to me ma’am.”

Of course he did, miserable old rotter. “When we get back to the Watch House, swap it out. Don’t make a fuss, but swap it.”

“Why?” Young Sam asked.

“They gave you the bell that’s three times heavier than anyone else, to see what you’d do. Did you complain?”

She saw Young Sam’s jaw set. “No. I didn’t want them to say it was because I’m a girl.”

Vimes sighed. Yes, she remembered that all too well.

“That’s the way lass. Just do them one in return and pass it on to some other sucker. They can’t complain, you’re just doing what any other copper would do. How did you come by this job?”

“My…friend Iffy Scurrick[24] joined a few months ago. He said you could eat for free, and pick up an extra dollar here and there.”

Unspoken was “And my mum needs the help, and I don’t want to do laundry and I really don’t want to work on my back.”

“That’s Scurrick down in Dolly Sisters then…and you been picking up the dollar?”

Young Sam was quiet for a minute. “Do I got to give it back?”

“Depends lass. Are you worth a dollar?”

“I gave it to my mum.”

And she’d tan your hide, grown copper or not, Vimes thought, if she found out it was a dodgy dollar. And you know it Miss Thing.

As Young Sam went on about the tax farmers and how tough things were, Vimes tried to think of the best way to tell a kid in a shit situation that taking a bribe was bad.

When Young Sam paused to take a breath[25] Vimes cut in.

“Would you let a murderer off if he got a house for your mum?”

Young Sam looked aghast. “Never sarge! I’m not like that!”

“You took that dollar, you are now. Everything else is just arguing over the cost.”

There was a pause, and then Young Sam went on. Listening to her talk, Vimes couldn’t believe that this was her once.

You aren’t me, she thought. I don’t think I was ever as young or foolish as you. Well, obviously I was, but thank gods I forgot it. If you’re going to be me, it’s going to take work. Twenty years of disrespect, having the floor taken out from under you, drinking…twenty years of shit, you poor dumb girl.

——————————————————————

As the hurry-up wagon started along its way, Young Sam blurted out, “Aren’t you worried about your baby?”

Vimes had been expecting her younger self to ask this, but she didn't think it would be on the wagon used to haul off people to get tortured.

It was both surprising and not that her pregnancy hadn’t been an issue.

It was not because half of the Watch were probably too clueless, inexperienced or oblivious to notice and generally thought of her as oddly fat.[26] And the other half knew and probably didn't care because they didn't like her anyway.

She was surprised that it hadn’t been brought up at all; subjectively speaking it would be a good way to get her dismissed or fired.

But…well Tilden was desperate for a semi-decent sergeant, she remembered that. And John….Joanna Keel came as highly recommended as one could in these bad old days.

Hell, Tilden was desperate enough for officers in general that he took in a scrawny slip of a girl a week ago.

Damn. The man had his faults, but he had done a massive service to her by hiring her. Twice.

“Well Lance-Constable, this is still a baby that will need a roof over its head, as will my mother.”[27][28]

“But you’re nine months gone, for su-“

  
Vimes smacked a hand over Young Sam’s mouth. Damn her younger self for being as curious and observant as she!

“Not another word about that. I have my reasons and that’s all you need to know lance-constable,” she sternly said, emphasizing Young Sam’s rank.

A perverse little imp[29] made her say, “Any way lass, you may find yourself in this position one day.”

Young Sam gave her a stonefaced look that Vimes knew rather well. “I’m never having kids. There ain’t nothing here for them.”

It was easy to forget, as the years went by since she met Carrot, how godsdamned miserable she had been before he had upended her life.

She looked at Young Sam. How could she say things would get better when she wasn’t even sure there was a better for her to return to?

She settled for, “All we can do is keep going, and make the best of what life deals us.”[30]

——————————————————————

Vimes and Young Sam were on the hurry up wagon, the curfew breakers in the back. She ignored some of the less inspired bribe offers and fished in her armor for her cigar case. She liked to hold it when she wanted a smoke, in lieu of actually smoking.  But of course, it was not there.

For a minute there was more anger than despair, and then more sorrow than anger.

There was a future. There had to be a future because her baby was still with her, and frequently kicking Vimes to let her know its displeasure with this whole running around business.

But that future was fragile, more fragile than a bubble floating on the breeze.

And just as liable to pop.

Sam rested her hand on her stomach, and tried not to think of it becoming suddenly flat.

Amidst the fuss being caused by Henry the Hamster, Vimes noticed a small, thin figure approaching in the torchlight.

“What seems….tobe the fuss here?” Henry the Hamster stepped back and if he had a hat he’d have taken it off.

“Officer won’t hand the oinks over sir.”

The little man approached Vimes with a stumbling gait. “THIS is…the officer?” he asked. Henry nodded and Vimes found herself getting scrutinized by a pale man only a little taller than her and with beady, rat-like eyes.

“You are…Joanna Keelyes? I have been…hearing..aboutyou.” His voice was as stumbling as his walk, all odd pauses and bursts of speed. He frowned. “A salute is generally in order…sergeant.”

She gave him the eyeball in return. “I don’t see the reason to salute you sir.”

He smiled, and it most definitely did not reach his eyes. “We are…plainclothes, as it were.”

Yes, your sort are, aren’t they? Vimes thought. All rubber aprons and boots and things that you can wash the blood off with.  Aloud she said, “Sir.” A wonderful word, ‘sir’, along with its counterpart ‘ma’am.’ It could mean any number of things, depending on what the sir or ma’am wanted to make of it.

“I am _Captain_ Swing…Findthee Swing. And now…would bea good time to salute.”

Vimes did, and apparently the preciseness of it impressed Swing because the horrid little man actually smiled a bit.

“Is this your…first time on the wagon?”

“Sir.”

“Well…notime like the present.” Swing went to open the door of the wagon and there was the telltale sound of a sword moving very slightly in its scabbard.

Swing stood still for a moment.

He looked at Vimes. She looked at him. He looked at her stomach.

The sword sound happened again.

Swing very carefully stepped away. “Well we….wouldn’t want tomake a mockery of the law now would we? Take them away.”

“Yes sir.”

“But please, a moment. Indulge me…in a hobby ofmine quickly.”

“Sir?”

Before she had a chance to react[31], Swing had whipped out a giant pair of steel calipers, and a ruler, and went about measuring her head, and then, without asking, her stomach, mumbling figures under his breath the whole time.

Then he tucked them away and said “I must both congratulate and warn you Sergeant.”

“Sir?”

“Congratulate for overcomingyour….natural murderous tendencies.; you have…the eye of a mass murderer. And I must…warnyou for your stomach size along with your…nosemeasurements show that your child will probably be….mentally deficient.”

Luckily Vimes had long practice in keeping her considerable temper in check, and that is why she was able to respond with “Sir” as opposed to, say, ripping that ruler away from him and laying into Swing with it.

“Don’t letme…detain you.”

——————————————————————

What were a few days for Vimes was about a day for Saul.  
  
It was not a pleasant day.  
  
———  
  
Once Carrot had told him what happened, Saul had excused himself as politely as possible, and made his way to the nursery.  
  
Willikins followed in his wake. “Sir?”

  
“Willikins…could I not be disturbed unless it’s her?”  
  
There was a knowing look in Willikins’ eye. “Of course sir. I’ll bring a drink and leave you to it.”  
  
Saul managed a feeble smile. “Good man. Thank you.”  
  
————  
The next few hours passed in an agonizing blur. Saul sat in the rocking chair that was his Great-Aunt Mariah’s, and thought about Sam.  
  
Sam and him laughing with a tinge of horror at the multi limbed onesie Igor made.  
  
Sam and him trying to puzzle together how to build the crib “and honestly Saul why on the Disc did someone take it apart before putting it in your attic, it’s not like you don’t have room up there.”  
  
Sam, four months along, and him painting the nursery, and being surprised by Angua and Precious and some other Watchwomen who all came by to help. The day ended with everyone covered in paint, but the nursery was painted too so that was fine.

Coming in last month to find Sam dead asleep in the rocking chair, hands on her stomach. She was so sound asleep, she didn’t even stir as he lifted her up[32] and carried her to bed.

“Sir Saul, I do not think Commander Vimes would want to see you like this.”

Saul lifted his head up to see that Havelock had let himself in.

“Havelock…how are you in here?”

Vetinari raised an eyebrow. “I distinctly remember being shown at least three hidden ways into the house by you over the years.”[33]

This normally would have gotten a grin or at least a little smirk from Saul but not today. His gaze remained firmly on the ground, and he kept moving back and forth in the rocking chair.

Vetinari tried again. “Sir Saul…Saul. Your wife managed to survive, handily I might add, having to run through twenty miles of snow in Uberwald with werewolves chasing her. She’s been to war and come back, and she has managed to survive and thrive in Ankh-Morpork. Wherever…whenever she is, she will be fine.”

Saul gave Vetinari an anguished look. He tried to say something and failed.

Vetinari walked over, and prodded him with his cane. “Come downstairs and eat something. If you are going to persist in this state, at the very least you can do it with food in your stomach and in a chair that you actually fit in.”[34]

Saul looked at the tip of the cane pressed against his leg for a long minute then looked up at Vetinari, with a slight shadow of his usual humor around him.

“Make me.”

Vetinari didn’t grin or smile or move his face in general, but there was a sense of relief, of relaxation, from him. “I would hate to have your wife have to arrest you for causing the collapse of the Patrician when she returns.”

Saul got up after a minute of extricating himself from the small rocking chair, and together he and his friend went down to the kitchen, to eat and to wait.

——————————————————————

After that mess with the lockers, Vimes began walking towards Doctor Lawn’s. She was horrified to realize that she was feeling a little bit good about all this.

She was furious at herself for feeling that small bit good about all this. It was a betrayal of the man she loved, the future Watch, her duties and responsibilities.

The majority of her wanted to go home. She wanted Saul, and she wanted HER Watch, and she sure as hell did not want to give birth away in the cesspit that was Ankh-Morpork right now.

She wanted to go home so bad she could taste it, bitter in her mouth.

But.

She couldn’t leave, not yet. There was unfinished business she had to attend to. She was here, she had a job to do, as Lawn put it. And right now it was surviving the street in the game of Silly Buggers, and if there was one thing Vimes was good at, knew more about than anything else, it was that. And there was a joy in the game. It was the nature of the Beast.

And it was while she was walking and thinking that she was jumped by two men.

The first one got a foot square in the crotch, because Vimes did not fight fair. She stepped aside and grabbed the other one while the first was sobbing from the pain.

She felt the knife skitter off of her armor on her stomach[35] and without thinking slammed his head into her knee. She heard something crunch and felt it as well. The Beast wanted to do more and while normally she would agree, she had other bugger to deal with, and settled for making sure the bastard who just tried to stab her baby landed face down in a pile of dung. [36]

She spun to face the first man who had managed to get himself off the ground and still had his knife, though he was looking rather pale.

“Drop it,” she said.

The man looked unwilling to oblige, so she sighed and pulled something out of her pocket that she had banned in her modern Watch.[37]

She slammed the blackjack on to his  arm, albeit with some precision and care in aiming, and the knife dropped.

“Your friend can sleep it off. But you Henry? You’re going to the Doctor’s office.”

It was with some surprise that Doctor Lawn opened the door a bit later to find his pregnant, short lodger dragging readily a 6’1 bruiser behind her.

——————————————————————

The locker search did not turn up a silver inkstand.

It did, however, turn up “The Amorous Adventurs of Molly Clapper” in Corporal Colon’s locker. She stared at the crude and smeared engravings like a lost old friend.

Ye gods she remembered that book. She spent many an hour in her youth adding notations such as noting that breasts did not work like that, if she saw something that big, she and most women would run away, no, don't stick it up there without warning, and other aphorisms.

For some reason, her fellow Watchmen did not appreciate that. Though there was the memorable day that both she and Fred tried to unremember a year or so from now where he thanked her for some of the notes she left.

Fortunately Tilden’s view was blocked, and she shoved the greasy book back into the locker, saying to the absolutely red Colon, “Studying theory Fred? Good. Practice and practice frequently.”

Colon somehow turned even redder and Vimes couldn’t help but grin a little bit.

——————————————————————

What’s your da do?” Vimes asked, as if she didn’t know.[38]

“He died a long time ago Sarge,” Young Sam said. “When I was little. Our mum said he got run over by a cart when he was crossing the street.”

A champion liar our Mum was, Vimes thought. Though when she did eventually find out that Thomas Vimes had run off with a barmaid when she was five, she did appreciate the lie.

He did get run over by a cart. That it was in Sto Lat trying to dodge paying his tab at his boozer was irrelevant.

“Er…my mum says she’d like to have you for tea one night Sarge. She said she knows how hard it is to be pregnant and alone,” Young Sam tentatively ventured.

Vimes looked at her. She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, she would rather have Swing break every one of her bones than see her mother, now 24 years gone and in Small Gods and

“Tell her if I can I will drop by.”

Did she just say that?

Shit.

——————————————————————

“You know that bloke?” Wiglet asked.

Vimes sighed. “Yes. He killed two coppers-the one who tried to nab him and one off duty at a pie shop. Killed a whole mess of others as well.”

Wiglet looked aghast. “But…but he’s a copper!”

“Yes Wiglet, and it was Swing who gave him that job.”

The wagon was filled with the silence of an entire troop suddenly listening in.

“I never heard about coppers getting killed,” Lance-Constable Vimes said.

“It wasn’t here in town lass. It was…a way away.”[39]

“And you were there?”

“They were men I knew, yes.”

The mood on the cart changed. Vimes was aware of several pairs of eyes looking at her stomach. That…wasn’t quite what she expected, or where she wanted that conversation to go, but she could just hear the Watchmen thinking “ah-hah” and drawing conclusions.

“So you came here to track him down?” Wiglet asked, once again not so subtly looking at her stomach. Ye gods, they probably all had her pegged as an avenging wife or lover.

Well, as long as they remembered that she was their sergeant first.

“Yes. Something like that any way.”

“He killed someone while they were eating a pie?” said Colon, mind on the food as always.

“Yup.”

“That bastard! Ere, what kind was it?”

“Witnesses didn’t say,” she lied. This was the bad old days. What dwarfs that were here right now kept their heads down[40], and went about laying the foundation that would turn Ankh-Morpork into one of the largest dwarf cities on the Disc in a few decades. But for now, there were no all-night rat pie shops.

“They’re going to come for that Unmentionable Sarge,” Wiglet pointed out. “Yes and? You want the night off now Wiglet?” she responded

The rest started to titter and laugh nervously and Wiglet blushed furiously. You poor bastards, she thought. You joined the Watch to earn something other than a pittance, and not have your back give out, and eat one good meal a day, and all the sudden everything's going to shit.  You don’t chase after danger, you just want a quiet life and the pension that comes after.

But now its war, and the war doesn’t care that you didn’t join to fight, and you’re in the middle, so both sides will spit on you. You are the absolute bottom-feeders.

But you’ll rise. Godsdamnit all you will rise.

——————————————————————

Vimes took the cocoa from Knock and nodded at Young Sam. “Let’s walk outside lass.”

She took a quick sip-she never had a taste for the stuff until she had become pregnant and now she couldn’t get enough of it-and noticed everyone staring.

“Well? What are you all sanding around for? Want to go out and ring your bells so people can see? Fancy saying that all is well?”

With that, she stepped outside.

There were people hanging around outside, in small groups.

She slowly sat down on the steps, working around her belly[41] and eventually settled herself in. She took another drink of cocoa.

She may as well started giving birth right then and there, the amount of attention she drew. The groups quickly massed into an audience.

She had been right. Close the doors and bar the windows, and you’re asking for it.

A pregnant copper, drinking from a mug that had “woRld’S besT dAd” inexpertly painted on it, is cause for a pause.

“We’re breaking curfew!” said one young man.

“Really? There’s no way of telling on my own.”

“You gonna arrest us copper?”

“Nope. I’m on my break, and besides, you’d have run off by the time I’m able to get up again.”

“And them?” he said, pointing to Colon and Waddy. “They on break too?”

“They are now.” She turned. “Why don’t you get some cocoa lads, no, don’t hurry on my account, just come out when you’ve got it.”

She turned back and raised an eyebrow at the man.

“Yeah, well, when ARE you off your break?” he said belligerently.

She paid him some extra attention. His stance was a dead giveaway-he was ready to fight, probably thanks to the liquid courage poking out of his pocket. Yes, this was a lad who was liable to make more mess and fuss than actually draw blood.

“Thursday,” Vimes said, getting a laugh from the crowd.

“Oh yeah?”

“That’s my day off, Thursdays.”

There were more laughs this time. When tension breaks, it can go another way besides violence.

“I demand you arrest me!” said the drinker, and stepped forward a bit.

The crowd got a disapproving tone to it. While Vimes normally didn’t want any coddling, in this case, if the crowd was upset that he was trying to provoke a pregnant woman, she would go with it.

“No lad, you are nowhere near drunk enough for me to pick you up. Go home and sleep it off, get some sense back into you. “

And…yup, he grabbed the bottleneck, just like she thought he would. Young dumb hotheads were always the same.

“Lad, I would not do that if I were you,” she said. She took another drink of cocoa. It was cold now, but it meant she had both hands on her mug and not, say, holding a weapon. That was vitally important.

It must not be said afterwards she had a weapon.

“Don’t call me lad you hussy!”[42] he shouted and smashed the bottle on the wall.

She watched his face, watched it go from anger to pain, watched his mouth open but no words come out, and blood begin to ooze and drip to the ground from his fingers.

She stayed still for a second. She wanted this to stick in people’s minds. The pregnant copper, hands full and unable to get up quickly. The bleeding man several feet away. They hadn’t touched each other, there was no fight, but she knew how rumor worked.

There was even a last little wisp of steam from her mug.

She stood up as fast as she could, all concern.[43]

“One of you oiks come and help!” she yelled, tearing off a strip from her shirt.

Some crowd members, obeying the tone of command in her voice, steadied the rabble rouser. One tried to reach for his hand and

‘DON’T.” she commanded as she made a tourniquet around the wrist holding the bottle. “He’s got a hand of broken glass, and he’s still liable to bleed out. Sam, get me Marilyn’s blanket. Who here knows Doctor Lawn. Well?”

Someone did and went running.

She was aware of Watchmen as well as civilians watching her in awe.

“Saw this happen once,” she went on inanely as she worked.[44] “Now, one of you lot knows who this is, come on.”

Someone shouted that it could be Joss Gappy, an apprentice shoemaker.

“Well, I hope we can save his hand then. My baby is going to need some shoes.”

It didn’t make much sense, but it got a round of “awwws” from the more sentimental in the audience and nervous laughter from others.

Lawn came through and kneeled next to Vimes. “What is a bed again?” He looked down and tsked. “Trainee bottle fighter.”

“Yup.”

“Well, you did right binding his hand. Now I need light and a table,” the pox doctor said. “Can you all take him into the House?”

She sighed. She didn’t want it to come to this but neither did she want this dumb arse to bleed out on the street. She pointed to some men and women in the crowd. “You lot, help the young lad inside with Fred and Waddy.”

She looked around. “And then we will leave the doors open, and you all will know what’s going on with Joss Gappy. We’ve no secrets, get it?”

“But you’re a copper-” a voice began, and was surprised to find Vimes could still dart forward, haul him out of the crowd by the shirt, and hold him up enough so his toes skimmed the ground.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “And the lass over there is a copper too-that’s Samantha Vimes and she lives with her mum off Cockbill. And that’s Fred Colon who lives in New Cobblers with his wife; they just got married you know? And you all know Waddy and Wiglet, I know you all do. Have I got your name?”

“N…no….”

“That’s cos I don’t give a damn,” she said and let him go carefully. She turned to address the crowd.

“You lot! I’m Joanna Keel. No one gets hauled into that House without my knowledge. You all are here as witnesses and those of you who helped Gappy in, I want you to stay around to see fair play being done. You want to hang around? Fine. I’ll get you some cocoa out; take it from a pregnant lady, it’s rather fine.[45] You want to go home? Great; it’s colder than a wizard’s staff out here.  I know what is going on out there as well as any of you all, and all I will say is we don’t like that as much as you. It’s going to be a long night, and I’ve got to work. You want to stay, I’ll have some lads build you a fire.”

She picked up her armor and mug and went back inside, leaving behind a few hundred people who were wondering what the hell just happened here.

.

——————————————————————

If she had been Samuel Vimes as opposed to Samantha Vimes, heavily pregnant, she would have simply been coshed over the head and fallen on the ground before being dragged off by the Agony Aunts to her until-now-unknown appointment.

As it was, she had been blindfolded and shoved into a carriage before she even had a chance to say anything.  She hadn’t been coshed or hurt, so she decided to wait, and see where this took her.

When the blindfold came up she was sitting in a rather comfortable armchair and there was even a footstool, should she choose to accept it.[46]

She had no sooner than swung her feet up onto the stool when she had in turn a crossbow aimed at her by Sandra the Not-Like-That-Seamstress.  She cocked an eyebrow in turn.

“You know, I’m not wholly unreasonable. If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just _asked.”_

Rosie Palm came into view, impressively turned out. “Well you had a bit of a snooze in between the carriage and here so I wouldn’t complain too much. Now I must go and-“

“Snapcase has promised you that you’ll be able to form a Guild at last, yes?”

It was cheating, and she was sure Lu-Tze’s friend Qu would be having a fit right now if he were here.[47] But she was really damn tired of being jerked around.

“And you actually believe him? He’ll just use you right until he’s the Patrician, and then he will forget all about you again. Don’t expect anything from him. People thought Winder would be the one to turn things around as well, and look where that got us.”

Rosie stared at her for a minute before turning to Sandra. “Get her a cocoa Sandra. If she moves, shoot her in the foot.”

Vimes didn’t ask if Sandra would really shoot that bow or not because she knew damn well that she would.

Rosie swept out. It was a marvelous sweep, and Vimes, who was not much of a ‘sweeping’ kind of woman had to admire it nonetheless.

-

Eventually the doors reopened and another dress swept and rustled in.

“Sergeant Keel? I’ve heard so much about you. Leave us please Sandra. I think the Sergeant and I will have a talk, between us women.”

Madam was taller than Vimes, but not by much. A Genuian, or at the least spent much time there, she could tell by the accent. Brown eyes and hair, a rich purple dress, and an expression that said that Madam knew quite well what Vimes was thinking.

“Don’t forget my fingernails, I just had them done,” she said. “And as a woman, you know better than to guess my weight. You can call me Madam.”

She sat down opposite of her and looked at her for a minute, taking in everything from the cut on her face to the bulge of her belly.  Finally she spoke. “Who are you working for?”

“I’m an officer of the City Watch, and I was brought here under duress.”

“You can leave whenever you wish.”

“This is a very comfy chair,” Vimes said. She was damned if she would be so readily dismissed.[48] “You really from Genua?”

Madam quirked her eyebrows. “Are you really from Psuedopolis?” She smiled. “Of course, I find it easier in my…..business matters to never be from anywhere too close. That being said, I have spent time there, yes. And now you’re thinking ‘old seamstress’ yes?”

She looked Madam up and down. “Actually, I was thinking revolutionary.”

“Oh do go on. Do you mind if I have some champagne? I’d offer you some but given your condition, you will forgive me if I don’t.”

Vimes decided to say nothing and take another drink of her cocoa, which she was damn well going to take full advantage of-it tasted like they used actual chocolate in this, for starters.

“Rosie was right. You are more than just a regular old sergeant. You are a woman, and one who’s about to give birth at that, and yet your squad seems to hang on to every word you say. After what? Two or three days? I would say that you are comfortable in the company of a woman of uneasy virtue, but honestly, you don’t strike me as the type of person who would care. Where are you from, by the by?”

“A long ways away,” Vimes said.

“Uberwald?

“No.”

“Shame. I have…. Business interests there.”

“I imagine you do. I also imagine you would like to have the same here in Ankh-Morpork, once we don’t have a ruler who is madder than a bag of cats.”

Madam smiled again. “Perhaps. Let us just say that this city has much potential that I would like to be a part of. And you are a rather perceptive woman.”

Vimes sighed. “No, it would make complete sense to anyone if they thought about it for a minute. Follow the money, which is what I tell all my officers. Winder is mad, that’s not good for business. His cronies are mad, crooks, or both, and that’s not good for business either.  The real revolution is with you and your friends deciding they want to do business and meeting in some back rooms and determining the future.  All that out there is just noise.”

Vimes took another drink of her cocoa. “Though you do know that Snapcase isn’t going to be much better.”

“Many people rather like him.”

“Because he waves and smiles a bit occasionally I think. What do you think Madam?”

“He’s a scheming, devious, bastard. But he’s what we have to work with at the moment. And you sergeant? How do you figure in?”

Vimes looked at her with her stoneface, though it was rather hard to give it when she had a cocoa mustache. “I don’t. You’ve nothing I want.”

“Nothing? You do have a little one coming soon.”

“There are many things I want. And you can’t give any of them to me.”

“What about a command?”

The question hit her like a hammer. Literally because the baby decided to kick her kidney. How could she know? There was no way she could know!

“Ah,” Madam said and Vimes cursed herself for giving it away. “Rosie said the thieves took away some custom made armor from you. Good quality stuff too. “

She opened another bottle-proper, none of that corks flying shit she saw goobers do at some boozers.

“A woman who can read the street, with the demeanor of a commander and the armor of a leader? No one needs to fuss on how you got here, just that you are here now. Here and more than able to take command of the City Watch.”

She felt a brief flash of temptation, mostly about thinking about chucking Swing out on his arse. But on the whole she just felt….tired.

She wanted _her_ Watch.

She didn’t want to give birth in this city that was once familiar and not.

She wanted to be with Saul.

“I want to go home Madam.  I’m going to finish the job given to me, and then I’m going home. That is all I am going to do.”

“Some would say,” Madam began carefully, “that if you are not with us you are against us.”

“For you? Against you? Against or for what? I’m not for you but I am most definitely not for Winder. And please, do not offer me a bribe again. I will not take it, no matter what threats you lay against me.”

“You are incorruptible then?”

“If you say so, yes.”

“Not for one side or the other then….and the world doesn’t like it when people don’t pick sides.”

“Tough shit. I like being in the middle.”

“And now you’ve given yourself double the enemies on a sergeant’s pay. Please. Reconsider my offer.”

“No. I will not hand over people to slaughter, just so you can replace one idiot with another idiot.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Madam nodded and sighed.

“The door is behind you Sergeant. Do have a good night.”

——————————————————————

Vimes paused at the door of the house on Cockbill Street.  
  
She shouldn’t.  
  
She really really shouldn’t. She should ignore the offer her mother made through her younger self to come over.  
  
There was the fact that things were happening so fast now that she really couldn’t even spare the 30 minutes she had set aside for this fool’s errand.  
  
There was the cough she could hear from an open window that she knew would end with her standing over her mum’s grave in Small Gods about two years from now.  
  
She really should not be here.  
  
Perhaps if she had already had the baby, or was not pregnant at all, she’d be able to resist.  
  
But she was here in the past, and she was about to pop, and her mum was alive and she wanted nothing more than for her mother to meet her grandchild.[49][50]  
  
Still, she really shouldn’t be her doing this.  
  
Her feet decided otherwise and took her into the house’s entrance hall, and equally motivated her hand to knock on the door to her mum’s rooms.  
  
Mary Vimes opened the door with “It’s good to meet you sergeant…” An then froze.  
  
They looked at each other for a minute, then her Mum, who had gone ashen said, “Samantha?”[51]  
  
Of course she could tell who it was. How could she not, if it was just as much like looking in the mirror for her mum as it was her.  
  
“Mummy,” Vimes said, and then started to sob and hugged her mother.  
  
—  
They managed to disentangle long enough to get inside and on the bed which also served as a table and seating  
  
Before Vimes could even say anything, her mother said, “Tell me only what you can lass.”[52]

   
“I’m 42, I’m still not entirely sure how I ended up here past a magical accident, I’m married, and obviously I’m about to have a baby.”  
  
She picked up her mother’s thin wrist and pressed it against her stomach.  
  
“I can’t stay long but I wanted you to…to…”  
  
Vimes couldn’t go on, and her mother smiled a sad smile.  
  
“Samantha, I am not stupid. I know I don’t have much longer.”  
  
Underneath her mum’s hand, the baby obliged by what felt like smoothing her entire body underneath her grandmother’s hand. It was her mother’s turn to tear up before she looked at her daughter.  
  
“So, who’s the man crazy enough to put up with you?”  
  
“Mum!” But she smiled. Her mum was the only person, once again until Saul, who actually teased her. “Saul. Saul Ramkin.”  
  
One eyebrow went up. “Son of Lord Simon Ramkin?” At her daughter’s nod, she went on. “So that makes you a lady then.”  
  
Vimes squirmed in her seat. She really didn’t want to say this but gods knew her mother deserved to know. “Er, actually the Patrician in my time  promoted me to Commander of the Watch and made me a knight and nowimtheduchessofankhtoo.”  
  
Both eyebrows raised. Then her mother grinned. “Not bad for a girl from Cockbill Street. But more importantly, do you love your man? Does he love you?”  
  
“Yes. And yes, though I don’t know why-OW!”  
  
Her mother had smacked her on the head. “I won’t have my daughter bad mouthing anyone, least of all herself.”  
  
She looked down at her daughter’s protruding stomach while Vimes was getting over the indignity of having been smacked by her mum at her age. “So what are you going to name the baby?”  
  
“If it is a boy, he’s going to be John Saul. If it's a girl-“  
  
“Please Samantha, do not name her after me. You know I never cared for being a Mary.”  
  
“I remember Mum. We’d name her Sybil Deirdre, after Saul’s family. I think he wants to throw my name in there as well.” She winced at that which Mary prudently ignored.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind that. I named you Samantha after my sister-I wish you could have met her, she was so sweet.”[53]   
  
-  
  
They talked and talked, mainly about the future,[54] but of the past as well, things that Vimes always wanted to know, things she had wished she had asked her mum.  
  
Eventually Vimes had to leave. There was a revolution waiting, a younger her that she had to make sure turned out alright.  
  
She hugged her mother one last time.  
  
“Samantha Vimes, I am so proud of you, and the woman you’ve become,” her mother said.  
  
“Mummy….” There was still so much she wanted to say, would never have the time to say. “Looking at me at sixteen…you were right. I should have let you cut my hair instead of me.”  
  
She saluted as her mother was laughing and went out the door.  
  
She would have a cry later, when it was safe for her to do so.  
  
For now, she would attend to the work at hand.

——————————————————————

In theory, one of the purposes of the yard at any Watch House was for training. And in her day, they were indeed used for that. Not so much in these days, however.

She was strewing out the straw men across the yard when Young Sam popped up behind her.

“Thought you said this lot was useless Sarge.” She said.

“Oh they are. They’re for falling on, not for stabbing.” She looked at her younger self, who looked confused.

Vimes sighed. “Look lass, you’re going around with a big pointy stick that you don’t have the first idea how to use, and if you don’t learn at least something about it, you’ll just have it shoved where the sun don’t shine.”

She took off her helmet and tossed it with her sword belt into a corner.[55]

“All right, come at me and attack.” She noticed that slowly but surely the rest of the squad were coming into the yard.”

“I can’t just stab you Sarge! You’re pregnant!” Young Sam wailed.

“You wouldn’t even come close lass, trust me on this. I just want you to try.”

Her younger self hesitated again. It was nice to see that her at sixteen had some ounce of sense.

“Sarge, you’re grinning.”[56]

 “And?”

“You're grinning and standing there, and I know I’m going to get my as-a hiding since that’s all you’re doing. “

“Worried about blooding that sword? Eh, toss it away, and let’s just fight dirty.”

Young Sam gave her another look and Vimes snorted.

“Please, I know you know how. There isn’t a woman born in a city that doesn’t know how to fight dir-“

Young Sam went diving to yank on Vimes’ hair, which she deftly dodged. Young Sam then lashed out a leg. Vimes stepped back, caught her foot, and flipped her ass over teakettle.

Not too bad, Vimes thought. Cunning. And quick. But I’ve gotten twenty more years of experience since then.

“I could see it in your eyes lass. But you got it. When you’re on the street, there are no rules.”

She felt a presence behind her and saw Young Sam’s eyes flick to someone behind her and thus was able to grab Ned Coates’ hand before he used it to bash her one in the head.

“Enjoying your day off Ned?”

“Yes, just want to see how good you were,” Ned responded, and promptly kneed Vimes in the crotch and twisted away.

The watchers exploded into furious titters[57], but Vimes, bent over and a hand on her stomach raised the other one.

“No, it was fair enough! A little hit isn’t going to make this one come out early, else I’d have tried it already.”  She put both hands on her stomach and wheezed more conspicuously than she really had to.

Ned wasn’t falling for it, instead continuing to circle her at a distance.

Damn. Okay, she was impressed.

“Yes ma’am sarge. Sam is too trusting. I want to see what you can show me. Like, say, if you were unarmed and a man came at you with a blunt object?”

Depends. If he’s as good as you…

Unfortunately with her stomach in the way she couldn’t duck and roll like she wanted to. However, she knew that Ned would think her first move would be a feint, and confidently slid left, towards her sword belt. Ned went right and by the time he realized his mistake she had her sword in hand.

Ned grinned. It was not a nice grin. “Upping the ante sarge? Let’s make it level again shall we?” and proceeded to draw his own sword.

Argh. Who taught him? He was good, very good, and he was playing silly buggers with her and they both knew it because while he could get away with cutting her accidentally[58], sergeants couldn’t.

Fine. He wants to play silly buggers….

She hurled the sword at the wall where it stuck in by luck only, but still looked really impressive and wowed everyone.

“Now we are even Ned,” she said, and at this point everyone’s eyes were bulging out of their head.[59]

You can always learn, she thought. She remembered Gussie Two Grins, who Sam would meet[60] in about ten years’ time. She learned a lot from Gussie. It helped that he was small and wiry, like her, and willing to fight godsdamn everything around him.

“What are you on about Ned?” she asked him, low enough for him to hear.

“Just want to see what you know because it’s looking like you know way too damn much,” he said then lunged.

She held on to the scabbard and ducked. Damn damn damn. Not one men in seven, even after training, knew what the hell they were doing with a sword and damn if Coates wasn’t that one who did know how.

Alright, cunning hasn’t worked. Time for old and mean.

She stopped, put a hand to her stomach and looked hopefully behind Coates. As much as he tried, Coates couldn’t stop the brief lapse in attention.

That was all she needed. The stiff leather caught Coates under the chin pushing him back[61], giving her time to slam the scabbard on his sword hand, and giving her an in to his shin, which she kicked.

Ned dropped to the ground, his sword away from him.

She barked off some pointers and directions to the squad and had them get to it before returning her attention to Coates.

“Nice moves Coates, I know damn well you didn’t learn them in the Watch.”

“And I know _damn_ well you’re not _John_ Keel.”

Her face went to stone….which she then realized might as well be a complete giveaway.

Shit.

——————————————————————

Vimes counted heads. There were less than she would have liked, than she remembered there being.

It would be said later that every member of the Treacle Mine Road Watch House stayed on. Which was complete horseshit and completely ignored human nature. But it sounded nice and clean and heroic after the fact so… But yes. Some dodged out the back, some never came back on to duty at all.

But it was true about Keel and the line.

“Alright lads and lass, it’s like this. We all have eyes and ears; we can tell what’s going on. I for one don’t like it a damn bit. And now they’re bringing the troops and we all know that is going to end well.”

She looked at the worried faces around her. “We aren’t going to mess with any of that, and we sure as hells aren’t going to be big damn heroes. I know-” and she patted her stomach[62][63][64] “-I certainly can’t be hero’ing.” This got a nervous chuckle or two and she went on.

“What we are going to do is keep the peace. Nothing else. Just that. Now, while as far as I’m concerned we’re carrying on as normal, others may not see it that way. So I’m not going to order you.”

She drew her sword and drug it through the dirt, making a long gash in the ground, deep and final looking.

“You come over this line, you’re in. If you don’t, you aren’t. I won’t judge you if you don’t, you sure as hells did not sign up for this and I really doubt we’re getting medals from this. I will ask you to leave if you don’t but that’s it. Now. Who’s in?”

She stepped back. It was depressing how fast Young Sam stepped over; gods she did NOT remember being that disgustingly eager. And then came Colon and Waddy and Wiglet, then Leggy Gaskin and Nancyball, and Moist…

Several more were pulled over through the marvelous application of the stink eye and other forms of silent peer-pressure. Others were well shameless and skipped out.

That left Ned Coates, who crossed his arms and gave her a nasty look.

Vimes, immune to nasty looks of all kinds, raised an eyebrow in turn. “We could use a man who knows his way around a sword.”

“You all are barking, bloody mad. And you’re going to get yourselves killed.”

As he went on, Vimes felt the weight of history like a lead weight in her stomach.

——————————————————————

A sense of duty told her she had a superior officer waiting.

She told duty to bugger off for once.

She stood in front of the Watch House and closed her eyes.

She spared a moment to think about the baby, who seemed content to sleep for now.

“Good lass,” Vimes thought. With her eyes shut still, she ground her feet into the street. Then she made her way to where Lu-Tze had taken her for a talk only a few days ago.

——

The wooden door gave very easily under the weight of an angry pregnant woman.

The wall, on the other hand, proved to be a bit more of a challenge.[65] Before she had to figure out how to haul herself over the wall baby in tow, Lu-Tze’s head popped out of an unseen door.

“Tea?”

She swept in and plopped herself down on a bench.

“No I don’t want tea.”

“What do you want then, Ms. Vimes of the very helpful feet?”

“I can’t deal with this!”

“Your grace, please try and relax.”[66]

“No! When are you going to get me home damn you?”

Qu stepped out of the temple then, a cup of tea the way she liked it with a nice fat lemon wedge in it. He offered it to her, and she took it, though not before shooting a glance at Lu-Tze who snorted.

“Please, like there is anything else we can put in it or do to it that you don’t already.”

“Lu-Tze said you would find us eventually,” Qu said, settling down next to Vimes and Lu-Tze on the bench. “So much for keeping this place secret.”

She glared at him. “Yes, because people will believe me when I tell them that the shonky shop houses a temple of time-travelling monks, of course.”

She sighed, and the anger drained from her, leaving her tired and empty feeling instead. She looked at the garden, and it all seemed half-familiar.

“I’ve been talking to dead men today, people who will soon die. Do you know how that feels gentlemen?”

“Well,” Lu-Tze began, “we all talk to dead men, as everyone eventually dies….”

“No you bastard! I didn’t mean it like that and you damn well know that. I mean I am talking to people who I know when they died, and how.  Every time I look at Nancyball, I see that godsforsaken grappling hook sticking out him….”

She trailed off and Lu-Tze decided not to push it, giving Qu a look to tell him not to either.

“I’ve been changing things, and I don’t know how they all are going to turn out now because I’ve been blundering around, and worst, so has Carcer.”

Lu-Tze waved a hand. “I told you Ms. Vimes. History will find away. It’s a shipwreck for now, and you are swimming for the shore. All you have to do is keep swimming to the shore. You must keep swimming, or there’s no shore.”

She shook her head.

“No. No that does not cut it. I’m not swimming, I’m drowning. Every minute of every day I have been here, I’m terrified that I will look down and my stomach will be flat. Every fucking _minute,_  always in the back of my head. There’s a man out there who the father of my baby, but he’s not that right now, all he is is some poor chap stuck living with an arse of a father. Is all that in my mind? Can you prove that this future is real, that it will happen? Is it real? Tell. Me.”

Lu-Tze and Qu looked at each other for a long moment, and Qu nodded somewhat reluctantly. Lu-Tze turned back to Vimes. “I think we can help you there. But for now…”

“Yes?”

“You go back out and Sergeant Keel plays her part. You see it through and hold the line.”

“As will I.”

“Yes of course, we can’t forget about Mr. Carcer.”

Vimes finished her tea, spat out a lemon seed, and turned to go. However, she was distracted by rustling sounds behind her.

She turned and all three of them watched as slowly but surely, The Garden of Inner City Tranquility moved and revolved until the little seed Vimes had spat out was in the middle.

——————————————————————

“You can’t take the law into your own hands!”

And then Vimes faltered because oh gods, what just came out of her mouth. Where was the law right now?

What was she doing?

Her Job of course. The one in front of her. She always did it, even when she was puking her wages up in the sewer. And the Law had always been there, even if sometimes it was further away than others.  But she always knew where it was, along with her badge.

It was important, her badge, even though the one at her breast wasn’t the one she was accustomed to.[67]  It was shield shaped for protection. Not protection _for_ her, but _from_ her. It protected her, and others, from the Beast inside of her, the one that waited in the dark behind her eyes.

She had killed werewolves with her bare hands. She had been mad with terror at the time, terror for the little life inside of her, and the Beast had given her strength.

Who knew what evil lurked in the hearts of men? Coppers, that was who. Young Sam thought she would see horrors now, she had a whole quarter century in front of her of one thing after the other, each worse than the rest. You saw, when you were a copper, that others had a beast, and how close they were to it.

Carcer wasn’t mad. He was sane, in his own awful way. He was simple. He didn’t have a shield. He looked around and realized the rules everyone else played by didn’t really apply to him if he didn’t want to.

Her world was spinning around her. Where was the law now? There was a barricade, with worried and scared people on it. There was a madman in charge of the city, along with his shadowy cronies, who didn’t care a whit about the people they ruled, so where was the law?

Coppers said that people shouldn’t take the laws into their own hands. That’s what coppers were for. But what about now?  If it shouldn’t be in the hands of those people on the barricade, it should be in the hands of Winder and his crew, who would continue to torture and drain the city of anything good from it?

She had a badge, but it wasn’t hers. She had orders and they were wrong ones. She had enemies, because she was misplaced in time. There was nothing real any more, nothing solid.

Just Samantha Vimes where she wouldn’t be. Her knees went weak, and she felt like she was about to pass out.

Then there were noises and flashes and the sound of a tambourine.

Something square and silvery landed in the dirt next to her, as the monks went off.

“Godsdamned heathens,” said Rust, striding forward.

She picked up the square silvery thing as Rust began being pelted by the barricade.

She stared. It was a cigar case.

It was her cigar case.

“To my Sam, with everlasting love. From your Saul.”

She was adrift no longer. She had an anchor.

Her baby had an anchor.

——————————————————————

She led her younger self and Nancyball to the cellar door, opened it, and stopped.

Cells never smelt good, even when you cleaned them regularly.

But the cells at Treacle Mine Road had never smelt like blood.

Unbidden, one of her hands drifted to rest on her stomach.

The beast stirred.

There was a chair in the middle of the room. It was not a nice chair. The floor around it was dark and sticky, and there was a godsdamned gully going to a drain.

No light could penetrate the gloom, and no sound would be getting out.

She could feel Young Sam next to her quivering like a leaf, and in the back, she heard Nancyball throwing up.

She walked, almost half-dazed, across the room and picked up a little bright bit from the floor.

It was a tooth.

Sometimes she thought the baby could tell when she was more upset or angry than usual.[68] Because right now the little one was thrashing around inside of her, and gods she didn’t even want to bring an unborn baby in here.

They were getting ready to go to the cells when she heard footsteps.

The beast tensed.

She moved to the rack and got the biggest club she could, and stepped out of the way.

There was someone coming who made those gullies full with blood, who dared to call themselves coppers. She raised it…

And noticed Young Sam, the firelight making her face look even more drawn than usual, looking at her, her badge bright and shiny, and her eyes full of…strangeness.

She sighed and lowered the club, and pulled out her cosh instead, sending the beast back into the dark behind her eyes.

A man came through, having the audacity to whistle, and promptly fell asleep.

————

She had finished locking up the torturer and got the key ring for the cells when Young Sam came hurrying back. Her face was sheet white, the blood drained from it.

In her stomach, the baby did another flip-flop.

“Find anyone?” Vimes asked.

Young Sam tried to open her mouth and say something once or twice, but it died in her throat every time. Tears started to stream down her face, and Young Sam didn’t even try to stop them.

She reached out and steadied herself. It felt like there were no bones left in Young Sam’s body and she was shaking violently.

“There’s a woman in the last cell, and she was pregna…sarge…sarge, oh sarge.” Young Sam cried harder.

“Okay lass, try to take a deep breath. I know it’s hard in here but you can do it.”

“And there’s a room at the end and we need to get Nancyball cos he fainted Sarge and…and…”

“You didn’t,” she said, rubbing Young Sam’s back.

“But they-“

“Let’s help the ones we can, yes?”

“But it’s our fault! Our fault Sarge! We did this!”

“What?”

“We were on the hurry-up wagon and we handed them over and we had cocoa and it may as well be our fault!” Young Sam wailed.

“Well, you had orders lass,” Vimes said. For all the good that it did.

They didn’t measure up, in here.

Neither did we.

The young woman next to her uttered a sound that was not human: Young Sam had saw the torturer in the chair. She shook herself away from Vimes, and grabbed a club.

Luckily, Vimes had been expecting this, knowing herself, and hauled Young Sam up and swung her away[69], knocking the club out of her hand, and keeping herself from committing murder.

“Don’t give into it now,” she hissed in Young Sam’s ears. “That’s not the way and this is not the time. You tame it, you send it back to the dark, and it will come when you call.”

“You know what he did!” Young Sam cried, kicking at Vimes’ legs. “You said we had to take the law into our own hands!”

Oh lord. Time to put a three hour lecture into a sentence.

“You don’t bash a man’s brains out when he’s tied down. Because you’re better than him.”

“But, but…”

All right, time to get this under control.

“Stand to attention lance-constable” Vimes shouted at the top of her lungs. Young Sam blinked through tear-reddened eyes, but did as commanded.

“We get the living out. That’s what we are going to do right now.”

“How can we tell-?”

“Just do it!”

So they went to the cells, and helped people out.

They cringed to see her, even though arguably as a heavily pregnant woman, she should be the most non-threatening thing in the world.

There were some who were broken, who the chair and the fists and the knives broke and then broke again.  They were beyond reason, or caring, or life. She took her knife out, and, without guilt gave what help she could to those poor souls.

She left the place, violent red and black thunderclouds in her head.

——

Going into a burning building while nine months pregnant was the dumbest, the absolute dumbest thing she had ever done, Vimes thought.

But it had to be done.

She ducked behind the wall when Swing came in, and cursed that she didn’t have her sword with her.

She made do with what she had, and ran into the room and leaped at Swing.

There was Swing, with a godsdamned sword.

There was Samantha Vimes, carrying thirty extra pounds around the middle, with only a knife.

Keel got out of this okay, I remember, she thought.

But I’m not Keel.

Swing smoothly ducked aside, surprisingly well. She hit the straw, and quickly rolled, ducking the sword that slashed next to her.

Damn the man, he was a decent swordsman.

And to make things even better, smoke began to come in the room.

They circled and parried at each other for a minute, Swing having the audacity to try and explain himself to her.

“Really Keel…Iknow I may seem a cruel…man….killingan expectant mother. But oursociety would be…better off withoutthat….future social deviant in you.”

She didn’t even bother talking to him, just let his words urge the Beast on.

He got her on her leg and she landed on her side. But she got the thick metal ruler that was in the clerk’s office. She came up and smacked the sword out of his hand. Then she kept following the curve of the stroke, the heft of the ruler.

It came out from the black behind her eyes.

She watched Swing with a blank, intent expression. He tried to take a breath, but the blood coming from out his fingers belayed that. He fell backwards, and Vimes left, the job done.

Behind her, the ceiling fell in as she exited.

——————————————————————

They all turned to Vimes, who was clutching her cigar case[70], expectantly.

“You’d like Freedom, Truth, and Justice, yes Comrade Sergeant Vimes?” asked Reg, encouragingly.

Vimes stomach rumbled. “I’d like a hardboiled egg.”[71]

There were some titters, and Reg looked offended.

“Perhaps we could set our sights a little higher given the current situation?”

“Well, yes, we _could_ …” she said, walking down the steps. She looked at Reg, and stopped the further sarcasm in her throat short.

He cared. He really, truly, cared. He was nothing but sincerity incarnate. And he was utterly serious about all this.

“Look Reg..tomorrow the sun will come up, and I hate to say it, but I really doubt we will have found Freedom, Justice will be in short supply, and knowing this city, there damn well won’t be an ounce of Truth lying around….”

“But I think it is just possible that a pregnant woman could get the hardboiled egg she’s been craving for the past few days."

——————————————————————

The news had gotten around even before Vimes had laboriously made her way down the barricade wall.[72] There was cheering, and all it had taken was some ginger and a willingness to put your hand where hands shouldn’t go.

Gods….what if we don’t lose?

In her present, Keel hadn’t taken care of Big Mary; the soldiers hadn’t been dumb enough to send it.

What if we don’t lose?

All they had to do was hold out. Once Winder was dead and Snapcase was in, well. They would go from the wrong side to the right one.

And then there would be seven empty graves at Small Gods, seven graves she wouldn’t visit every year.

Could she go back then? Or would she be stranded here, offered the position of Commander for her, hah, heroics. What if she had the baby here, raised her here?

She took out her cigar case and stared hard at it for a second. Then she put it up and rested her hands on her stomach, feeling the little movements of the baby under her.

Let's see….if I had never met Saul and married him, I would have never gotten pregnant, and I wouldn’t be having a baby….

Her mind went round and round. Under her hands, the baby kicked.

But Lu-Tze said what happened stayed happened.

She imagined Carrot and Angua, Detritus and Cherry, and Saul, always Saul, frozen in time.

Never moving forward, May 25th on endless repeat.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home so bad she practically trembled. But if that meant that seven men had to die for her to leave, that price was too high.

She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. There was no Sam Vimes that would make that decision differently, because then she would not be Sam Vimes anymore.

It would probably destroy her all the same, if it meant that her child would disappear because of it.

But she couldn’t doom those seven men.

A tear welled up, unbidden. This was a ride that she wanted no part of, didn’t even know existed, but she was stuck on it now.

History finds a way.

But it better find a different way, because it was up against Samantha Vimes.

——————————————————————

Snapcase took some snuff.

“Not Keel. Look at what she did in a few days. I shudder what to think what she would do with more time. Not to mention, she would be a bad example for the women of this city” and he failed to notice Mrs. Palm and Madam stiffen. “She would give them ideas, make them want to move out of their proper place in our society.”

“I thought you wanted to promote her?” Dr. Follett asked bluntly.

“Yes. Promote her to glory, as it were.”

The room went dead silent. That he wanted to kill her was bad enough.

But the woman was pregnant. All the attendees in the room had moral standards of varying strengths, but there was one thing they could all agree on.

You did not hurt children, and you most definitely did not kill a woman with child.

He looked at them, and snorted. “Honestly. The world will be better off without another piece of gutter trash taking up room in this city. Grow some spines.”

And then he had them politely but firmly shown out of the office.

——————————————————————

It will come when you call…

Everything else became irrelevant. She grabbed another sword and launched herself screaming at the nearest enemy who went down with barely any effort.

She saw Snouty go down and she took apart his killer in a whirlwind of blades. She spun around to face Knock, who promptly squeaked and ran off screaming.

And she ran on, ducking and jumping, hacking and slashing, letting the ancient senses do their work.

One or two men aimed for her stomach.

They went down less cleanly than the others.

Someone went for Young Sam, and she quickly dispatched him, in true self defense. She kept on, in an ever widening circle, covered in other men’s blood. She wasn’t an enemy, she was a nemesis, and no one could touch her.

And then as suddenly as it came the Beast withdrew, and she was just a furious woman with two swords again.

—-

“Tell me one thing Sarge,” Coates said. “How do you know all of this?”

She probably shouldn’t say but did it really matter at this point?

“Honestly…I am from this city, but, well, I travelled through time-there was a hole or some rot like that.”

Ned looked at her. She was covered head to toe in blood, so much so that it dripped off of her,[73] and she had a sword in hand.

“Really? From how far back?”

——————————————————————

Time froze, went grey.

Vimes felt one sharp pain in her back, then another and….

“Now? REALLY?”

“Almost there your Grace!” Lu-Tze said, coming out of nowhere. Qu came up behind him. “One or two small matters of business then we can get you home,” he chimed in.

Her knees went almost weak with relief, and with the cramp that went through her.

She could not believe it. She was starting to go into labor.

Well, at least she was on her way home. She patted her stomach. I’d have preferred you waited until we were all the way back lass, she thought at the baby[74], but I’m rather glad you didn’t start to come earlier.

“We’ll need your armor,” Lu-Tze began, in the matter of a man trying to ease his way into a subject. “The Cabinet is getting tetchy.”

“Of course, sure,” she mumbled distractedly and whipped the leather jerkin that had served her rather well these few days off. Her job was done and the baby was coming. She wanted to be home already.

“And your clothes of course,” said Qu the naturally tactless. “You can’t take them forward in time with you, and we’ll need them to dress the decoy corpse.”

His words cut through the distracted fog she had been in and she stared at him, for one of the few times in her life shocked utterly speechless. Behind him, Lu-Tze face palmed.[75]

“What?” And then when the second half of that sentence caught up to her ears she rounded on Qu. “WHAT?”

Lu-Tze intervened before Qu had a chance to open his mouth again. “It’s okay! Well, not really, of course not, but….remember the poor woman Lance-Constable Vimes found? At Swing’s building?”

She remembered all too well. She stared at Lu-Tze. “You’ll make sure she’s buried somewhere nice?”

“Of course.”

“And that Keel goes in….gods, my grave?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll make sure Young Sam is fine? And Reg goes in a nice shallow grave?”

“I will,”

She looked at him for a moment more, then nodded.

He nodded back. “Get as close to Carcer as you can and grab him, when we unfreeze.”

“You bet I will.” She twinged again. She really didn’t want Carcer anywhere near there but this baby was coming…

“Can you put me down at my house?”

Qu began with, “That is quite impossible” and then froze from the look on Vimes’ face.

“I have killed men and I was part of a revolution,” she said slowly. “I saw friends I still mourn to this day die in front of me again. I did the job I had to, played the role I needed to”

Her voice went even colder. “Now, I am in labor. So the least, the very least you can do, is put me down at my godsdamned house.”

There was silence for a second.

“We’ll do the best we can,” Lu-Tze said.

——————————————————————

In the course of travelling back to her proper time, her water broke.

Of-fucking-course.

——————————————————————

Saul heard the front door burst open and in walked his wife, naked but for the new wound across her eye and soot and other men’s blood. Neither had a chance to say or do anything before Sam’s legs gave out on her. She looked at Saul, still standing on the landing in shock.

“Saul. The baby is coming. Now.”

As the household staff went into a furious tizzy of sheet gathering and boiling water, Willikins and Saul each grabbed one of Sam’s arms and helped her up to her bedroom.

As they went up, Sam kept talking.

“Saul, I know she delivered you, and your grandmother, but I don’t want Mrs. Content. Send a boy to get Doctor Lawn. I know I can trust him,” she managed to get out as they settled her into bed and got a shirt on her.

She looked at Saul, who was looking at her still with shock, overcome by the impending birth of his child, the giant slash across her face, and that she was back safe and sound, and smiled.

“You got me through. You are the one who got me back to this time,” before grabbing his arm to pull him in for a kiss. Then the grip on his arm tightened to the point that he felt his bones twinge. “And as much as I want to catch up to you, I need Doctor Lawn here. NOW.”

In that tone of voice, Saul wasn’t going to question how his wife knew the old pox doctor, but sent a runner down to fetch him.

Honestly, he wasn't inclined to argue too much. He didn't want to say it to Sam, who knew Mrs. Content from her days growing up on Cockbill Street, but he was glad Mrs. Content would not be the one helping her.

It was true that Mrs. Content was at his birth, yes. But on the other hand, his mother died giving birth to him. And it was probably unfair to blame that on Mrs. Content but the thought always remained in his mind.

If Sam wanted Dr. Lawn, Dr. Lawn she would get.

And for now, he would celebrate that his wife was here back at home, where she belonged.

And the child she was about to bring into their world.

——————————————————————

There was screaming and pain.

Even the part of her that always watched herself because Samantha Vimes was through and through a copper was along for the ride, screaming and pushing as well.

And then there was one final almighty heave.

And then Doctor Lawn was cutting a cord and wrapping up this crying thing and oh my gods this crying thing was being put into her arms and

“It’s a girl, Joann-Sam.”

And then this bundle was being put into her arms and she had a daughter, and Saul was crying, and she was unabashedly crying, and the baby was crying, though for her it was less emotion and more upset at the eviction she had undergone.

And Saul was going, “Look, she’s a little you, Sam” and Sam knew right then and there that even though she had argued against the baby bring named directly after her she was looking at Little Sam, as opposed to Sybil Samantha Deirdre, but she couldn’t find it in her to argue in the face of seeing her husband weep for the first time in the course of their marriage.

And Sybil…or Little Sam as Saul was already calling her, not five minutes into their daughter’s life, was all red and squishy and squalling and quite possibly the most beautiful person Sam Vimes had ever seen in her life. And every part of her knew that there was nothing she wouldn’t give, nothing she wouldn’t do to keep her child safe and happy.

Before she passed out from sheer utter exhaustion she looked at Saul.

“I’ll teach our girl how to Walk. I’m good at that.”

——————————————————————

She really shouldn’t be out of bed.  
  
Nor did she really want to be. She had just given birth about ten hours ago. She wanted nothing more than to be with Saul and Little Sam.[76]   
  
But there was the Duty. And there was a debt that she owed.  
  
She had a sinking feeling the two were going to coincide.  
  
She let herself into Small Gods, in the early hours of the morning, when Saul and the baby had drifted off.  
  
She went to John Keel’s grave and settled herself on it, making sure not to disturb the egg on there. She didn’t think he would begrudge either a fellow copper stopping to take a rest, or a woman who just pushed a sack of potatoes out of her body.[77]   
  
She looked at the six other graves around her. She mouthed their names and thought of each person lying underneath her feet. They weren’t good men or bad men, but men who did their job, not because they were heroes, but because they thought of it as their duty to do so.  
  
She was honored to have fought next to them twice.  
  
She tried to relax into the night, to settle in for a good think, but there was something in the air that was putting her on the edge.

Let’s see…there was a guard on her house, people she trusted with not just her life, but the life of her family. She could trust them to stay vigilant all night long. And the Watch Houses were at double guard as well.

Besides, those were too obvious.

The egg next to her was broken, boiled yolk and eggshell everywhere.

She leaned forward a bit, and the blade went over her head.

But the Beast had been ready, hadn’t been thinking about guarding and defending, hadn’t been thinking at all. It had just been there, in the dark behind her eyes, watching the shadows, and putting her hand into her pocket.

On the ground, she swiveled and punched Carcer in the kneecap as hard as she could with one of Mrs. Goodbody’s finest items.  She heard something crack, felt something crunch under her hand, and launched herself at Carcer.

There was no finesse to this, no holding back. The Beast was out in full force. It wasn’t very often that she was sure she could make the world a better place but it was so achingly clear to her now.

She didn’t want Carcer under the same sky that Little Sam was under.

They were both at a disadvantage. She was still weak from having given birth. He just became semi-crippled with a broken knee. But it was still hard-her sword was gone, and the damned man was tough as steel. It is very hard, as well, with your hands, to kill a man who wants to live.

She had managed it before, though, in Uberwald

They rolled and hit and generally tried to kill each other before Sam got a hold of a sword and had Carcer at the end of it.

He had a knife in his hand. “So who is going to arrest me? Sergeant Keel or Commander Vimes?”

“Arrest? Never said anything about that. I’m just defending myself from a crazy bastard who interrupted my mourning.”

Carcer looked at her for a second, then grinned and dropped his knife.  “Can’t kill an unarmed man, Missus Vimes! You’ll have to arrest me now! And take me in front of Vetinari! I do so want my little say, heh.”

“Drop the other two,” she said over the roar of the Beast, which wanted nothing more than to shut Carcer up permanently.

He dropped another one, looked down and grinned. “Oops, stepped over your-heh-grave there.”

She said nothing. Carcer was still smiling that damned smile of his but there was, for a first time, a very slight tinge of nervousness there.

“You won’t kill me Missus Vimes. Not with your badge on. That’s not your way.”

She tore off her badge and threw it to the ground.

He threw his third knife to the ground as she got closer. “That’s it. I’ve no more knives. I can’t escape. I surrender. I give in. Just arrest me, okay?”

The Beast screamed inside her; no one would blame her for keeping the hangman from a day’s pay and a free breakfast. Besides, he’d probably make sure to drop Carcer the hard way instead of the easy way, so really a stab was much more merciful and he deserved it and he would go after Little Sam if she didn’t and….

Young Sam looked at her, eyes shiny and full of strangeness, from a quarter century away, in a dark building.

She lowered the sword.

She could bend the law, and gods knew that it needed bending sometimes. But she couldn’t break it. Once you broke one law, they all began to break, breaking down till there was nothing left unbroken.

That was not the world she wanted Little Sam to grow up in.

Carcer said something to try and provoke her again, but she ignored it. The Beast was all around her, but that was all it was. A beast, useful sure, and had some tricks, but that was all. It was dumb. And she was far, far more than a dumb beast.

She could do more than that. And she sure as hells wasn’t going to let him win.

She dropped her sword. Carcer stared at her, finding a quietly smiling Vimes infinitely more terrifying than a furious Vimes.  But then he got a hold of himself and a fourth knife in his hand.

She was faster though, and grabbed his hand, smashing it against the stone over and over again until the knife dropped. She slammed him face down on the ground, and put a knee into his back to make sure he stayed there. She grabbed his wrists, and began binding them, tearing off her sleeve to do so.

“You’re hurting!”

She grinned a nasty grin. “Yes, but I’m still doing everything by the book. The sun is going to rise this morning, and it's going to shine all the better on my lass Sam because very soon you won’t be here to sully it. You’ll be going in front of Vetinari as soon as he wakes, and the witnesses will be there, and then the express route to the Tanty. Hell, I’ll even make sure the hangman breaks your neck instead of leaving you to choke, all nice and clean though you more than definitely do not deserve it.”

She turned and started to bind his ankles, using his own shirt. “The machine is waiting for you. The city is waiting for you. The law is waiting for you, and it is the law that will kill you, not me. It will be fair, and I will see to that myself.”

She knelt down next to his head and whispered in his ear.

“I am the Law. And I am better than you.”

She stood back to figure out how the hells she was going to get him to jail because she felt wobbly in the knees now that the fight was over, and she was pretty sure Saul and Dr. Lawn would have Words with her if she tried to carry him there.

“Good evening, your Grace,” said Lord Vetinari, and Sam spun around, and generally tried not to yell out in surprise.

“How long were you there?!”

“Oh, long enough. I feel at this time of year some contemplation is appropriate.”

“You…were very quiet,” she said weakly, because she knew he was going to say

“Is that a crime? I heard a very neat arrest. Congratulations, by the way, your grace.”

She looked at her sword, clean on the ground.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“On the birth of your daughter, I meant.”

“Er…yes, thank you. Saul will be bringing her by the office in a few weeks to meet you, once she’s big enough to leave the house.”[78]

“Healthy lass, I am given to understand.”

Vimes smiled weakly. “Yes, she’s already screaming fit to bring down the house.”

After varying topics of sensitivity were broached, and a new Watch House was agreed upon, they reached the gates of Small Gods.

She dropped Carcer to the ground. “You can take him by Pseudopolis Yard, yes?”

“Of course.[79] Good night commander.”

“Sergeant-at-arms, thank you,” and she walked off, Carcer’s moans in the background.

\---

On her way home, she walked by the alley behind Clay Lane and stopped when she reckoned she was behind the temple.

A lemon tree was growing, absolutely impossible in Ankh-Morpork’s climate, but there it was. Not only growing, but huge. The lemons hung fat and large from the tree.

One fell off the tree and landed by her feet. She smiled, and pocketed it.

And then she went home, and the world turned towards morning.

  


* * *

[1] even if it were easier to let Saul or Willikins to do them up, she refused. She could tie her own boots, her nine months gone stomach be damned

[2] and certainly much faster

[3] to his credit, Lord Downey had over the years fully embraced going coeducational.

[4] Mr. Wiggs did not do his research and thus was surprised to find that Vimes had a cosh on her

[5] the abeyance must be new. She had one attempt when she was three months along.

[6] Vimes hadn’t wanted to make a big fuss about her pregnancy, but after she dealt with that little annoyance, Saul had gone to lunch with Downey to discuss certain matters and that was that.[8]

[7] Mr. Montjoy-Stibble ended up thrown out a window and into the River Ankh. This was after she broke his nose by introducing it to her knee.

[8] “My wife is pregnant, Lord Downey. And while I can-barely-accept these shenanigans most of the time, the attempts end now. ”

 

“My Lord Ramkin, had we known she was with-“

 

“It’s Ramkin-Vimes, thank you very much. The next attempt between now and when Sam gives birth, I will triple the rent on this property.”

 

Lord Downey blanched.

 

“As for now, considered it doubled.”

[9] or killers in general for that matter but shush this is supposed to be dramatic.

[10] the Librarian would have joined in but he was busy putting down a disturbance among some of the more tetchy books when the lightning struck.

[11] and unlike a different Sam Vimes, has an immediate 20 minute discussion about a baby.

[12] Mainly the continuing pain on her face. Gods she was going to have a wicked scar when this was all over.

[13] Ah yes. As if this situation couldn’t get any better, she was supposed to have the baby two days ago. For all she knew, she could have the baby now here in this cell and aaaaaaargh.

[14] since she couldn’t smoke, she could at least hold them.

[15] and gods she just met her long dead father in law. How many dead people would she be seeing?

[16] Sam had earned the nickname that her ancestor had, Old Stoneface, very easily.

[17] she really, really did not want to mess around with gods damned magic.

[18] despite the movement she felt under hand, the future had become a giant uncertainty and she was 26 years in the past. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

[19] hardy har har, very clever.

[20] and damn he hated thinking things like this but real life does not care if you don’t like cheesy statements.

[21] She tried to ignore the twinge that reminded her that her mentor was now lying dead somewhere because she and Carcer had come crashing back in time

[22] Stupid time travel.

[23] She was getting quickly tired of this time travel shit. 

[24] Oh yes. Good old Iffy. Vimes remembered him well.  They had fooled around a bit, and parted on good terms. Young Sam was still way too young to be that blasé about it though.

[25] She didn’t talk much when she was young, but Vimes remembered that once she started going, she was hard to stop.

[26] at this point Sam looked like a grape with a toothpick stuck through it.

[27] the story she had given Tilden was that her husband was dead, and her mother was on the way from Pseudopolis to help with the baby when it was born.

[28] it also helped that he had bought her assertion that she was only six months along. If she gave birth here, she had bigger things to worry about than being proven a liar.

[29] or more accurately, annoyance at her younger self

[30] ack. She hated spouting off shit like that but as a mentor she supposed she had to. Damn time travel.

[31] Just as well.

[32] It always amazed him, how light she was, even pregnant. She exuded so much sheer force of personality it was easy to forget that she was about 120 pounds soaking wet, if that.

[33] Saul’s father detested Vetinari, and vice versa, so Saul had shown him the hidden entryways to avoid trouble and to actually spend time with his friend instead of in a blow up with his dad.

[34] The rocking chair was made for a woman Sam’s size, and not a man Saul’s height.

[35] She had Lu-Tze show her that it could withstand knives before she could put it on and WAIT BABY

[36] Conveniently located due for narrative purposes next to Vimes’ feet. 

[37] Unless she judged the officer to be sensible and reasonable, in which case she very pointedly did not ask or look for it.

[38] Also to keep her younger self from continuously spouting off ill-advised, half-thought out sedition.

[39] Only too far away.

[40] metaphorically as well as literally

[41] Once again, while she could not wait for the end result, she really did not care overall for being pregnant.

[42] Because presumably if she were married her husband wouldn’t be letting her run the streets pregnant and working? Honestly, sometimes people got so het up over the whole woman thing, it was ridiculous.

[43] and some wobbles.

[44] “in ten years time when I was piss drunk and I then had to break up the fight and let me tell you, I was NOT happy,” she did not add.

[45] Yes, this was one time she would milk being pregnant for all it was worth. Even though she had just held a man up on his tiptoes, it was still hard for people to be scared of a pregnant lady, she had noticed.

[46] She did, as her feet had become swollen little balloons the past two or three months.

[47] Probably not Lu-Tze. She got the feeling he was a little more blasé on the subject of cheating.

[48] Also, this was perhaps the comfiest chair she had sat in in quite a long time.

[49] also, she didn’t want to give that walking arsehole who was Saul’s father to have the honor of being to only grandparent to see his grandchild.

[50] gods that man was absolutely repugnant and she only talked to him for a minute. No wonder Saul didn't talk about him.

[51] until she married Saul, her mother was the only person she allowed to call her Samantha

[52] “She didn't get that brain from me Saul,” she said to her husband as they watched their child pepper her godsfather with questions on how the city ran. “She got it from my mother.”

[53] remembering the look in her mother’s eyes as she said that, Sam didn't argue as much as she would have when Saul named their child after her as well.

[54] albeit for spoilers and editing out years of drunkenness.

[55] She left her leather armor on though, because it never hurt to keep the baby in some extra padding.

[56] The kind of grin sharks tended to have when approaching a pair of legs in the water.

[57] Well, the man version of titters any way.

[58] Well, on her arms and face and legs anyway. He’d probably be in the shit if he got her stomach. Thank gods she left her armor on, in case.

[59] True Morporkians the lot of them, always up for a show.

[60] And date a bit before realizing that getting along with someone like a house on fire wasn’t necessarily a good thing and they decided to just be friends.

[61] She was going to aim lower, but then remembered that she was a sergeant, and one of only two ladies right now. No one else but Young Sam would appreciate it.

[62] since she was stuck back in time and possibly going to go in labor at any minute, damn if she wouldn’t milk being pregnant for all it was worth.

[63] she just couldn’t let Saul find out or he’d laugh and never let her hear the end of it.

[64] damn, knowing him he’d find out anyway.

[65] Because this couldn’t have happened to her when she was two or three months along. Or not pregnant at all. Damn time travel.

[66] He did not say “for the baby” because Lu-Tze had rather more experience with the opposite gender than his contemporaries in the monastery.

[67] And it was well weird seeing her badge on Young Sam’s chest.

[68] Being her child, the baby quickly adjusted to the daily amount of anger that Vimes tended to generate.

[69] Thank all the gods she was so scrawny at this age.

[70] Because she really, really, wanted a smoke right now.

[71] Another pregnancy craving, along with cocoa and, inexplicably, Saul’s cooking. She just was going along with it at this point.

[72] she had gone past annoyance and fury that she was past due and having to do all this and now was in the icy calm of acceptance.

[73] it struck Coates as an incongruous sight: Keel, at a stage of pregnancy where most women would either take to their bed or at least take it slow, drenched in gore and having done things with two swords that he did not remember his Keel teaching him. What kind of savage place did she come from?

[74] she was getting a ‘girl’ feeling from her stomach; she was convinced now she and Saul would have a daughter in a few hours.

[75] or in the parlance of my dear readers, did a Picard.

[76] This was one rare fight that Vimes had to acquiesce. She looked at the little red bundle that was her baby-she had a child!- and she had to admit to her husband that no, godsdamnit, she didn’t really look like a Sybil or a Deirdre.

[77] Yes, between the last nine months and her and Saul’s age, she rather thought that they would only be having the one.

[78] “He is the godsfather, why wouldn’t I bring our child to meet him?” he had said a few weeks ago, and she had to admit that he had a point.

[79] Not only did he not mind, but he also knew that if Sir Saul found out he made his wife carry a man to the Watch House hours after giving birth, he would never hear the end of it.


	30. Return to Work

There were many adjustments to be made after Little Sam was born. One of them was the cot in Vimes’ office. 

 

Some women would have stayed home for a few months before returning to work, or rely on a friend or a wet nurse while they worked for feedings.

 

Sam was having none of that. She was more than capable of feeding her own daughter, thank you very much. And as for staying away from the Watch, the month’s bed rest that Dr Lawn had prescribed had magically turned into three weeks with two weeks filled with daily Watch reports in front of Saul’s eyes. 

 

And as Sam explained to Saul one night with Little Sam between them, “Saul, my mother had no other choice but to take me with her to work until I was on mushes[1]. And I turned out fine.”

 

Saul still didn’t look convinced so Sam went on. “And…” Even now, it was hard for Sam to express certain things. “I’d like to have her by me, for awhile.”

 

Saul thought about how he’d have Little Sam all to his self during the day once she was weaned. As well, he looked at his wife and saw the dueling devotion between the City and her duty, against the little auburn bundle that was wiggling between them and said,

 

“I think, Sam, after all your years of hard work and dedication, that you have earned at the very least some accommodation.” Sam grinned.

 

And so until Little Sam was about six months old, Vimes took her into work with her. She carried Little Sam around in a sling that, to be honest, looked rather incongruous against her armor, but Vimes certainly didn’t care. Not to mention, it was infinitely more easy to clean baby messes off of metal as opposed to cloth.

 

The crib in Vimes office was a gift from Cheery and the other dwarf officers in the Watch. It could not only expand into a playpen as Little Sam got bigger and older but had all sorts of little nooks and crannies and bobbly things to delight any baby.[2] There was a “Do Not Disturb” sign for the door, for when she had to feed Little Sam. And on the rare occasions that Sam’s presence truly was required out in the City, there were any number of desk sergeants in Pseudopolis Yard falling other themselves to watch Little Sam.

 

It ate at Sam’s copper soul to be riding a desk for so long [3], but every time she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she would look at Little Sam attempting to chew her own feet, or giggling at something only she could see, and remember that some sacrifices were worth it.

——————

1\. Solids are for babies and toddlers with teeth. Duh.

2\. And Sam most resolutely did NOT cry when she got that, thank you very much. She just had dust in her eyes.

3\. And not smoking. While having the baby around certainly provided for happy moments, for many years afterwards, Watchmen would gauge how irritable their Commander was at the current time compared to the six months she spent stuck at her desk with no cigars.


	31. Return to Work pt 2

There were only minor adjustments, surprisingly enough, to having a baby at the Watch House.

One of them was that, for once, when it came to her office, Commander Vimes well and truly meant it when she said “Do Not Disturb.”

Of course, it fell to the hapless Constable Ping to find this out the hard way. One day, he burst into Commander Vimes’ office with Some Really Important Information About A Case Sir Honest Just A Moment Of Your Time Plea- only to find his Commander topless, covered in old scars and recent spit up, hair askew and a wild look in her eye, attempting to breastfeed a crying Little Sam.

The chewing out that Commander Samantha Vimes gave that day was legendary. It was said Vimes yelled so loud that the echoes still occasionally bounce back and forth between the walls of the city.

When Ping left the office his chums took one look at him and took him down to The Bucket to recuperate. And, as the scarred and shaking Constable later told his friends, she did it all while continuing to feed Little Sam.

 

 


	32. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more Night Watch! based chapter for now.

“I met your father,” Sam said, sitting up in bed and nursing their daughter (a daughter! He had a daughter!). “In the past that is. I went to our house first before I knew what was going on.”

Saul paused. He did not like his father, never got along with the man, and the feeling was mutual. But yet some small traitorous part of him was glad the old man, now ten years dead and in the ground, got to meet his daughter in law and future grandchild. Though now that he was remembering his father…..

“He called me a stupid whore that he wouldn’t fu-“ Sam looked down at the infant nursing at her breast and went on. “-bed in a million years so I clearly had the wrong house.”

Saul got into bed next to his ladies (ladies! He had ladies!). “I must admit, I wish he was still alive now,” he said. Sam looked at him.

“Oh?”

“The look on his face when the person he denigrated so ended up being the one to make me a duke after all these years would have been priceless.”

Sam grinned and pecked him on the cheek.


	33. Help

The problem wasn’t that Saul wanted to take care of Little Sam himself; Vimes was touched and relieved that Saul didn’t share the feeling of many in his class to keep the children out of sight and out of mind. She loved that Little Sam would be with Saul all day.

The problem was that the damn stubborn fool [1]refused to hire help for the dragon pens, despite the fact that soon he’d have his hands full with a baby. But no, Saul insisted he could do both.

Honestly. Even she had no problem passing off Little Sam to Cheery, when she was needed on the street, or having Angua and Carrot help with the paperwork when Little Sam was fussy.

“Saul,” she finally snapped at him one day[2], “if I of all people can accept help from others, you can as well.”

Saul’s mouth dropped. His wife, Samantha Vimes, who once followed a suspect across the ocean and into a warzone…if she was saying that then how could he not.

And, once he had Little Sam during the day, he had to admit having the help was nice while dealing with Little Sam, who seemed to have gotten a double measure of stubbornness from both of them.

\---------------

[1] it took one to know one, she thought ruefully

[2] she almost never argued, actually argued or lost her temper with Saul. She did not want to be that kind of wife, as well as the fact that she never really had a quarrel with him. However, between Little Sam fussing all day, having to attend a luncheon in dress uniform at the Assassin’s Guild,and breaking up an impromptu street fight on her way home, she was a little frazzled.


	34. Distratction

“I think Sam has been feeling blue lately,” Saul Ramkin-Vimes confided to his best friend over tea. He had the cup in one hand, and his over hand was around Little Sam, who was content to sit in his lap and drool over the piece of cloth she was chewing on.

Havelock Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, sipped his tea and nodded, which Saul took as a sign to go on.

“Ever since Little Sam was weaned and started staying home with me, she just seems…a bit lost.”

Vetinari gently pulled the piece of his robe that his godsdaughter was chewing on, only for her to start gumming at his finger instead.[1]

“I mean, she sees us every single day, she makes darn sure of that and I am so proud of her because I know that can be hard. But I don’t think she’s adjusted to not having Little Sam with her all of the day yet.”

The finger was extracted only for Little Sam to immediately start chomping and drooling on his robe again.

“Of course, I cannot get a word about any of this out of her; Sam is worst about talking about how she’s feeling than you are Havelock, and I thought that was impossible.”

He was ready this time, and when he tugged the robe out of Little Sam’s mouth, he replaced it with a coral. Little Sam happily began nomming on the ring.

“-I just think she needs a distraction of some kind.”

Vetinari looked up to see Saul looking at him, no guile in his kind smile.

The next day Albert Spangler was hung, and the weeks after that were full of Samantha Vimes swearing, hollering, stomping, and otherwise in a generally better mood.[2]

\--------------------

[1] Little Sam was currently teething and thus had an insatiable urge to chew on everything around her.

[2] Well, Saul thought so anyway. Everyone else, not so much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the tumblr prompt "Sam/Sybil/Vetinari. Sam is having a bad day."


	35. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Glorious 25th of May!

Saul Ramkin-Vimes was awoken before dawn on his daughter’s first birthday by the rustle of his wife getting out of bed.[1][2][3]

Considering that she once told Saul that the idea of seeing two seven o clocks in a day was strange to her, the idea of her being up at five was baffling.

She must have sensed that he woke up because she leaned in next to him to give him a peck on the cheek.

“Me and Little Sam are going for a walk……er, do you want to come?”

Saul remembered what else had happened on May 25th. “No my dear, you two go on. I need to muck out the cages anyway.”

She gave him that crooked grin she saved only for him[4] and stepped out of the room.

———  
“You’re getting heavy lass,” Vimes mumbled to her daughter, who was asleep on her chest.[5] It felt weird to be making this trip to Small Gods in her civvies[6]; she had been making this trip for 25 years but it was the first time she was doing so out of her armor. But she told herself that if she was going to take this day for her daughter, she needed to do it all the way. And that meant no armor, no badge, no temptation to join the chase or nip back to the Watch House for a minute which would turn into hours and….no.

“I will always be there,” she had promised Little Sam on the day she was born, “No excuses.”

——-

They saw her mother first.

Mary Vimes had never cared much for flowers; “If you actually knew me,” Sam remembered her mother saying to an erstwhile suitor once, “you would have taken this money and gotten some meat with it.”[7]

Her mother had been practical, and not much given to sentiment, but Vimes thought she would appreciate the small lock of Little Sam’s hair that she placed on her grave.

——

When they got to John Keel’s grave, Vimes sat on it again, taking care not to nudge off the egg wrapped in a purple ribbon left on top.

She didn’t think he would begrudge a copper a chance to rest her feet; especially one who had been carrying a baby around for an hour.

She held Little Sam[8] and sat on Keel’s grave and watched the sun come up over Ankh-Morpork.

She didn’t say anything; here, in this place, words weren’t needed, would sully the moment. Later there would be a big breakfast, and a party for Little Sam at the Watch House[9], but for now here were the graves of her friends and her mentor, and the lessening dark, and the quiet.

She thought of a revolution.

She thought about the second one, and blood, and pain, and loss.

Endings and beginnings in the form of the infant in her arms who was squirming in a way that indicated she would soon be awake, and probably pretty cranky.

Vimes really wasn’t surprised to look over and see Vetinari there, a lilac in his lapel.[10] “Sir Saul invited me over for breakfast, and I decided to pay my respects on the way. May I offer you a ride back to Ramkin Manor, Commander?”[11][12]

Normally she would rather jump in the scorpion pit than be in that confined of a space with Lord Vetinari, but today…today she found that she didn’t mind the prospect.[13]

As they left, a lilac branch fell on the graves.

\---------------------------------

[1] She had taken the day off for the occasion, which had rather surprised Saul.[2]

[2] He had felt a bit ashamed at expecting that she wouldn’t but this was the woman who for the entirety of their marriage only took off for their anniversary.[3]

[3] And who had to practically be strapped to the bed to stay home when she was sick. Perhaps now that Little Sam was around he could convince her to take an actual vacation.

[4] And now Little Sam as well.

[5] Saul had brought down the pram that he and several other generations of Ramkins had been pushed around in, but Sam refused to use it. She preferred wrapping Sam up around her; it had the advantage of keeping her daughter as close as possible to her, and left her hands free just in case.

[6] An oversized and inexpertly knit blood red sweater Saul made her and a ground length grey skirt.

[7] Harsh, perhaps, but they had gone two days without eating at that point because her mother’s wages had been withheld to the end of the week for whatever godsdamned reason.

[8] Who was miraculously still asleep.

[9] Vimes didn’t understand what one would get a baby or what Little Sam would get out of the birthday party but everyone was so excited at the prospect that she didn’t have the heart to say no.

[10] The man had damndedly perfect timing, rot his eyes.

[11] And wasn’t it amazing, that her husband, her unassuming, sweet, Saul, had Lord Vetinari, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, wrapped around his fingers like that? [12]

[12] He would never think of it like that and that was one of the reasons why she loved Saul, but it still boggled her mind occasionally.

[13] Much. Okay it was barely tolerable. But Lord Vetinari wasn’t the only person who would move heaven and Disc for Saul Ramkin-Vimes.


	36. Sick

Samantha Vimes had many virtues-really, she did, despite what the vast majority of Ankh-Morpork thought.

But, her husband thought as he heard a grumble from their bed, she was an absolute terror when she was sick.

* * *

 

Carrot and Precious had brought her home the night before. Saul had noticed that Sam had been looking rather peaked the last few days, but Little Sam was teething[1] and there was a streak of unlicensed theft going through the city, so he figured she was just tired.

“This is mutiny!” she shouted-or rather, tried to shout as she was bundled out of the carriage by Precious.[2]It came out more like a piteous croak.

Saul rushed out to meet them and immediately felt his wife’s forehead. She was hot as an oven.

He _knew_ she was sick when she stepped into his arms while Carrot and Precious were still there.[3]

“She’s spent the last forty minutes in her office staring into space,” Precious told Saul.

“I was thinking!”

“Now ma’am, you know you usually do your thinking with more-“ Carrot winced “-salty language. Besides, you were having the chills."

“Pseudopolis Yard is just a little cold, that’s all.”

Carrot and Precious looked at each other. “You were wearing four coats and you didn’t even ask Nobby where he got them from,” Precious said.

“And there was a fire in your office,” Carrot concluded. He turned to Saul. “I sent a pigeon to Doctor Lawn; he should be here shortly.”

“Thank you Captain, Lance-Constable[4],” and saw them off before picking up his wife, who by that point was swaying on her feet, and carried her into the house.[5]

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure what upset Sam more; that Doctor Lawn told her that she had the flu and should stay home for at least three days[6], or that he had had the forethought to sneak a pigeon to the Patrician’s Palace to let Lord Vetinari know.

When a runner delivered a missive from Havelock ordering Commander Vimes to stay home and recover from her illness, Sam started to shout, but it devolved into hacking.

She looked a bit abashedly at Saul.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t just that Sam was completely and utterly devoted to her work, to her duty.

It was also that Samantha Vimes had a hard time staying still.

It was hard to notice day to day, Saul realized as he got a bottle ready for Little Sam, because she was always busy[7]doing something.

But now, when she was supposed to be on bed rest….

Saul sighed. In the last three hours he had to chase the Commander of the City Watch, Duchess of Ankh, back to bed after catching her trying to stoke the fire in the room, smoke!, walk by Little Sam’s room to “see how she’s doing”, smoke another damn cigar, and last but not least, putting her boots on to “check up on things, just for a second Saul, don’t give me that look!”

If it weren’t equal parts worrying and exasperating, it would be a bit funny because poor Sam was sick enough that she was doing all this with none of her usual grace or dexterity.

And it was only day one….

* * *

 

He woke up when Sam, who was not a cuddly type person, had clung to him like a limpet and was shivering.

He put his arms around her and they went back to sleep.

He woke up again when his wife, now covered in sweat, simultaneously threw all the covers off and kicked him away from her in her sleep.

* * *

 

Sam knew, of course, that she should stay away from Little Sam as not to get her sick as well.

This lasted for a day, and then Little Sam began to wail uncontrollably, tears rolling down her cheeks and her little arms waving. Nothing Saul did could get her to stop.

This lasted for two hours, and then Sam[8], dressed in Saul’s nightgown which drug after her like a train, slowly made her way in, and gently took Little Sam from Saul.

Little Sam stopped crying immediately, and her parents decided to just risk it after that.

* * *

 

The last day was the worst.

“Godsdamnit Saul I feel fine!”

“And Doctor Lawn told me you were going to say that, and it is even true, but you are still contagious.”

“Just tell me where you put my armor.”

Saul had an ace in the hole though. He pulled out a packet of papers.

“I know you dislike it, but Sally brought some things by that you could look a-“

His wife, and the packet, were gone.

When Samantha was able to go back to work, Saul bent down[9] and gave her a kiss and saw her off.

Then he sneezed. And felt his cheeks flush.

Saul was a mild mannered man but sometimes the situation called for an appropriate response to one’s feelings.

“Bugger.”

  


* * *

[1] He knew that his wife nor Little Sam did it on purpose, but of course this was happening now that Little Sam was weaned and staying home with him during the day.

[2] That’s how Saul knew Carrot had to have been involved. There was only one or two other people that he knew that could match his wife’s force of personality, and Carrot, in his way, was one of them.

[3] She kept up the grumbling though because she was Sam Vimes.

[4] Saul almost slipped up for a second; Vimes had mentioned that Precious was due for a promotion next week.

[5] He could respect that his wife had her pride, even if he thought it was very silly at times, and thus made sure all of her officers were gone before taking her in.

[6] “Now Joa-Sam, you know damn well that you’re contagious right now and I am sure you would hate to get your officers sick.”

[7] And as someone who fought hard and often, was disciplined enough to keep herself from constantly fidgeting.

[8] Who had not been crying thank you very much.

[9] This was one of the problems that came with being a foot and some taller than your wife.


	37. Naptime

Saul Ramkin-Vimes peeked into Little Sam’s room. The baby’s full name was Sybil Samantha Deidre, mainly because Sam refused to name the baby directly after herself, as well as in honor of his mother, but she was quickly becoming Little Sam. His daughter just looked like a Sam.  
  
His wife was on the floor, half undressed from work, on top of Little Sam’s blanket, with Little Sam in her arms. It was the first time that he could recall her face looking…peaceful.  
  
  
He shut the door. Any Watchmen looking for their Commander tonight could just keep on looking, if he had anything to say about it.

 

 


	38. Temper

Saul knew that his wife, the love of his life, was short tempered, had a nasty turn of thought, and could generally be a very unpleasant person. 

Though never to him of course.

And any one of her enemies who thought that the Duchess of Ankh would prove to be less bothersome after she had a baby were all quickly proven wrong after some fool of a Baron from Uberwald tried to pick up Little Sam from Sam’s arms and got a broken nose and left hand for his trouble.


	39. Babysitting

The Patrician was alerted to the impending danger when he heard the sound of a wailing infant approaching the Oblong Office.

A minute later, Lord Saul Ramkin-Vimes came in, clutching a red, desperately unhappy and sobbing baby girl.

“Hello Havelock!” Saul greeted Vetinari.[1]

“Hello Sir Saul, what brings you and Little Samantha here?” There was a hint in Vetinari’s voice of ‘especially when she is screaming to bring down the Oblong Office and is turning an alarming shade of scarlet.’

“Oh with Sam gone, I figured this would be a good chance to bring Little Sam by to meet and spend the day with her godsfather.”

Vetinari was, for the first time in several years, a little surprised. “I…. see. You think that is appropriate with her…the way she is?” He had to raise his voice to say the last thing as somehow, Little Sam’s wails got even louder.

“Oh she’ll be fine. She just misses her Mummy, since she’s been gone in Borogravia.”  
Vetinari was about to say something to the effect of him being far to busy to spend an indefinite amount of time with his godsdaughter but stopped at the look in Saul Ramkin-Vimes’ eye.

It was the look of a kind, gentle, patient man. It was the look of a man who missed his wife terribly, and was only slightly less upset than his daughter that she had already been gone a month, and missed things like Little Sam’s first tooth starting to come in and her hair becoming more thick. It was the look of a man who needed a small break and thought it would be good for his daughter to meet her godsfather, who had sent her mother away into a warzone.

Vetinari silently acquiesced and took Little Sam from Saul’s arms. Even the Patrician knew when he had been beaten. 

“Oh good! I’m so glad you can take her Havelock. I will be back in a few hours; there are some repairs to those assassin traps Sam set up that I promised her I’d do while she was away.”

Then he was gone, and Vetinari was left alone with a crying baby, and feeling a bit at a loss for the first time in a very long time. 

 

[1] It had always amazed Sam that a. Saul knew Vetinari’s first name, and b. that he persisted in always calling the Patrician ‘Havelock’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing Vetinari! I hope he turned out even slightly believable and not too OOC. :)


	40. Koom Valley

 

She had just stepped out of the mine when a carriage pulled up, and out of the window popped Saul, arms waving.

"Come on Sam! Otto says we don’t have much time left before the sun starts to set."

She got in and looked at her husband quizzically for a second before she realized who he meant by ‘Otto’ and what this was for.

He smiled at her, knowing where Sam’s thought processes had taken her. “Honestly, I’m just as unexcited for sitting for an oil as you are. And Otto says this shouldn’t take no more than five minutes and, well, go with the times, yes?"

A five minute iconograph? Taken in her regular Watch armor? That Sam could get behind.

The spot Otto picked had Koom Valley in the background. Koom Valley, on Koom Valley Day. She smiled. You had to be there…

Vimes was in such a good mood, she didn’t even mind that Otto asked her to stand on a box so he could get her and Little Sam in the frame better. [1]

Of course, five minutes turned into twenty while Otto futzed around with positioning, and light, and all the other accoutremont of the iconographer’s trade, but it was so nice outside, Vimes couldn’t be bothered by it.

"You know dear, Havelock is going to have to think of someway to reward you this time," Saul murmured in her ear at one point.

Little Sam wiggled in one arm, looking around at the butterflies and birds all around her with big bright eyes. Her other arm was wrapped around Saul.

"Let him try. I have everything I could ever want."

—————————

[1] Saul was gobsmacked, until she told him later that while she loved her tall man, it was nice to have a picture that showed more than just her head and chest in the frame.


	41. Dark Night of the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A post-Thud! Drabble

In anyone else, it would have been called the long dark night of the soul.

Vimes had seen too many countless long dark nights for that to mean anything to her.[1]

But something of that feeling was haunting her tonight as she sat in a chair rocking Little Sam. Everyone else was asleep, worn out from the night’s celebration of the Koom Valley Accord[2], but Sam’s ears had caught the sound of snuffling from the crib the next room over and she woke up instantly.

She had picked up Little Sam and sat in the rocking chair. Her daughter fell right back asleep, but if Vimes was honest, she wasn’t ready to put her daughter back to bed yet.

Right now, there was nothing more that she wanted than to have Little Sam in her arms, asleep and drooling all over her night shirt.[3]

And to try and not to think about the new scar on her wrist.

Her Watchmen looked up to her. OTHER city’s Watchmen looked up to her. She knew gods damned Kings that seemed to think favorably of her. Vetinari trusted her.

But more important than any of them were her family.[4]Saul thought the world of her, knew that she would always do the right thing. And she knew that to the little girl in her arms, she could do no wrong.

Letting them down, succumbing to that darkness that she now had a permanent, tangible reminder of on her wrist….that terrified her. Terrified her more than facing down mad werewolves and mobs, than traveling back in time[5], more then anything she ever had done before or would face in the future.

So she rocked in the rather comfortable chair, her daughter to her breast, the darkness kept away by the light of a candle, and that’s where Saul found them in the morning.[6]

—-  
Rhys, Low King of the Dwarves looked at Grag Bashfullson.”And has the…thing gone away?”

The rather long answer that went through Bashfullson’s mind was :

“Everyone who the Summoning Dark ever rode ended up mad or dead. She not only emerged neither of those things, but it left its mark on her. Nothing like this has ever happened before. I think it’s gone for now but I have a feeling it won’t be the last Vimes sees of it. And she’s a mother with a little one, and a whole mess of enemies stupid enough to try and get at the Commander through her baby.

Out loud he only said, “Perhaps it is wisest to acquiesce to the Commander’s reasonable demands?”  
———-  
[1] Also, she probably would never phrase it like that.

[2] as well as actually being used to sleeping at night.

[3] one of the grey tatty ones emblazoned with “AMCW” the recruits wore while training with Detritus.

[4] the Watch were a really close second though.

[5]and since when had her life became this ridiculous?

[6]and because he couldn’t resist, told Sam to wipe the drool off her own chin. Her dirty look only made him laugh.


	42. Four People Who Looked After Little Sam

One: Willikins

Willikins’ arms were covered in tattoos, which he always kept covered up.

So of course the one time he needed to push his sleeves up was the one time a five year Little Sam came wandering into the kitchen, and her eyes immediately fixated on the slightly faded colors on his arms.

“What are THOSE?” she said, awe in her voice. And Willikins meant to tell her to run off and play outside but those big grey eyes were looking at him…

That’s how Saul came in five minutes later to see Willikins making the lady on his bicep dance and his daughter giggling madly.

Two: Cheery

Little San LOVED Aunt Cheery’s beard.

Before she got too big to sit on her lap while she did her paper work, Little Sam loved nothing more than to hide under Cheery’s beard and pop out and hide again and pop out.[1]

When she was a little older, Cheery let her braid her beard, and that was how Little Sam learned how to do hair.

And how Cheery one day inadvertently started a trend among Ankh-Morpork’s lady dwarves by showing up to a crime scene with her entire beard done up in hundreds of tiny braids.

Three: Nobby

It was only because Vimes had moved beyond the point of utter desperation.

She needed all of the officers she usually had sit baby Sam with her to deal with the riot off Treacle Mine Road between the Dimmers and the Miners after a game ended even more badly than usual.

And there was no time to send for Saul.

So she put baby Sam in Nobby’s arms and in a voice usually reserved for making prisoners wet themselves told him to take care of her Or Else, and went off to deal with the riot.[2]

Nobby looked down at Little Sam. She had that brownish red hair that Lord Saul called ‘auburn’ and Nobby always thought of as ‘brownger’. She stayed sleeping, moving only to wiggle into a more comfortable position against Nobby and to start drooling on his arm.

He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had trusted him with anything, let alone a baby.

And Nobby looked at Little Sam, and an odd wobbly bit inside him went “squish”.

So Nobby found a chair, propped his sword next to him in case, and Sam came back an hour later to find both of them snoozing, her daughter’s drool snaking a clean path down Nobby’s armor.

After that, while he still wasn’t her number one choice, she let Nobby look after Little Sam too.

Four: Angua

Most people, Angua had found over the years, reacted with disgust or horror when they found out she was a werewolf. Or both.

Little Sam, once she was old enough to make the connection between the golden blur she sometimes saw chasing criminals in the street and Aunt Angua, thought that Angua being a werewolf was the most amazing thing ever.

Of course, this meant that Little Sam, being rather intelligent for her age, always was bombarding her with questions about what she smelled, and wait you smell in colors when you’re a wolf, what color am I, is Mummy’s colors red, and so on and so forth.

“Lass, give Aunt Angua some air,” Vimes told her once after an extensive session of bouncing around and asking questions.

Angua smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.” From most other people, yes.

From a little girl who simply accepted who she was, who was never scared, she would always answer any question.  
———

[1] Sam told Cheery to scold Little Sam if it bothered her but the dwarf waved it off, saying she often did the same when she was little.

[2] The rioters, many of whom were tall, burly and drunk, were soon to find out that what Sam had in none of those departments, she made up for in anger, fighting dirty, a sharp knee[3], and more anger.

[3] one of the good things about being a female Watch officer was that the unspoken “no-unmentionable hits” rules that usually occurred during fights between male officers and nicks went totally ignored by them.


	43. Four More People Who Looked After Little Sam

Four More People Who Watched Little Sam

One: Detritus

First he taught Little Sam how to count the troll way.

“How many recruits are dere in de Yard?” he asked her one day. She looked on the hapless Watch trainees he had running laps. Her nose crinkled, she whipped out some fingers and mouthed words for a second before triumphantly shouting “Many-three!”

He smiled. “Dat’s right Sammy[1]. Now, how many recruits are puking up?”

Later he taught her how to count the way Cuddy taught him, and in a few minutes she was merrily counting the cracks in the ceiling. He sat and listened to her, looking at the cooling helmet in his hands all the while.

 

Two: Dorfl

Little Sam LOVED Uncle Dorfl.[2][3] To her, the golem was a combination of an awesome, mobile playground, and an interesting relative all in one.

So every time Dorfl was asked to watch after hir niece, it would mostly consist of Little Sam climbing all over hir and laughing like mad.

“Constable Dorfl,” Vimes had told him yet again,[4][5] “if she is bugging you, you can tell her to knock it off.”

Dorfl looked at the giggling girl who was currently hanging upside down from his outstretched arm.

“She Is Not Being A Bother.”

 

Three: Fred Colon

It was Colon who fed Little Sam her first solids.

He had volunteered to look after her one day when she was about six months. It was lunch time, and all day the Yard could hear Little Sam wailing, as she was starting to teeth. Colon caught the look on Vimes’ face as she came down to go out for lunch, and the circles under her eyes.

“Here, I’ll take her while you go see Sir Saul,” Colon said and took Little Sam from her mother.

He knew he did the right thing when Vimes didn’t even argue, just nodded her thanks and went out for some time with her spouse.

Even though he and Mrs. Colon never saw much of each other by agreement, he remembered seeing that tired look on her face when their own children were babies. Sam could use a break.

“What are we going to do with you lass?” he asked Little Sam. She made a gurgling noise at the same time as his stomach. “Lunch then,” Colon decided and together they went to Off Broadway to All Jolson’s.

“Is this a new one Fred?” Jolson asked as he brought two Slumpies over and joined them at their table.

Colon started when he realized what Jolson meant. “Oh no, this is Sam’s daughter, Little Sam.”

Jolson nodded and they tucked in. Little Sam made more sniffling noises, but these were the ones that threatened to erupt into crying and Colon remembered that she was hungry too.

“Here Little Sam, try this,” and he put a little spoon of meat and sauce into her mouth.

Her little eyes practically popped out of her head and if it weren’t for Colon holding on to her, she would have dived head first into the plate.

Vimes looked rather suspiciously at the stains all over Little Sam’s clothes when they got back, but she decided to let it lie.

 

Four: Lance Constable Sally Von Humpeding

Saul was out of town for the week. Half of the Watch was out sick and the other half was pulling doubles to keep up, including her. Not even Nobby was around, as he was helping Angua in the Shades.

And now there was a double murder, and while Sam had no problem setting up a cot in her office, or just generally exposing Little Sam to the atmosphere at Pseudopolis Yard, she drew the line at bringing her to a crime scene.

Thus, out of desperation, she went to Sally with her two year old in hand. “Lance-Constable, watch Little Sam for an hour, if you please,” and proceeded to plunk Little Sam down in Sally’s lap before the vampire could object.

Sally was about to say something when she caught the look on Vimes’ face, and thought twice about it.[6]

“Thanks Sally,” Vimes said, and ran out the door, leaving Sally and Little Sam looking at each other. Sally had absolutely zero interest in children; let alone what to do with them.

One of her cold fingers touched Little Sam’s skin, who immediately shrieked[7], then started laughing hysterically. Sally smiled despite herself.

“Maybe you aren’t so bad after all kiddo.” Her eyes alit on the cello she had brought in case there was band practice that night.[8]

Vimes came back later to find Little Sam asleep in the cot in her office, and Sally playing some Uberwaldean piece on her cello.

Vimes couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit. Maybe Sally wasn’t such a bad choice for a babysitter after all.

\---------------------------------------------------  
[1] He was one of the few people allowed to call her Sammy.

[2] And yes, Dorfl was neither a male nor a female. However, Morporkian had not caught on to gender neutral pronouns and forms of address yet. And Sam just got the Uncle vibe from Dorfl

[3] And honestly, Dorfl didn’t care whether Little Sam called hir ‘uncle’ or ‘aunt’.

[4] She kept trying to tell everyone that they could tell off Little Sam if she was bugging them but her daughter never seemed to do so.

[5] Saul laughed after the baby shower was over. “Your Watchmen are going to positively DOTE on our child.”

[6] It always amazed her that a scrawny, shorter than even her, alcoholic mutt like Vimes somehow managed to scare her even more than Margolotta, or some of the people she ran with In her non-Ribboner days.

[7] And scared a year of life into Sally.

[8] The Watch band still wasn’t sure how to fit a cello into their motley crew, but Sally kept showing up for practice, so they were just going with it at this point.


	44. Little Sam at the Palace

Lord Vetinari showed Little Sam over the years most of the secrets contained within the Patrician’s palace.

Not all of them, because this is still Havelock Vetinari we are talking about.

However, the fact still remained that Little Sam was the only other person besides Vetinari who knew how to get into Leonardo’s room [1].

He took her to the throne room and showed Little Sam the rotting wood under the gold gilt. He was a little nonplussed to find her more eager to see if the wood would crumble under her touch rather than what the wood represented, but he supposed as she was six, this was to be expected.

Drumknott would occasionally shanghai Little Sam into helping him stuff envelopes, or put away and fetch files for him, or other little chores around the office. However, Little Sam ultimately did not mind too much as he made sure to get her a piece of pie from the Palace Kitchens of the type of her choice as payment.

She loved the Rats Chamber, because she thought all of the dancing rats across the ceiling were rather funny and spent hours playing with her building blocks [2] in the room. When she was too small to reach, her Uncle Havvy would lift her up to ding the axe her mother embedded in the table.

She had been in the dungeons, because that was where her Uncle showed her how to pick a variety of locks. Or rather, how to pick the kind of locks that Nobby didn’t have access to. [3]

And of course, the Oblong Office, where Otto de Worde happened to snap a photo of Little Sam when she was four playing under the Patrician’s desk during an interview with the Times.

Having a survival instinct [4], but still liking the photo, Otto offered a copy to both Vetinari and the Ramkin-Vimes.

Saul has his copy framed in his office where he works on his pedigree books.

Vetinari kept his on his desk, the only iconograph on his desk he would have for his entire career.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

[1] There was no better person for a burgeoning young scientific mind to meet than Leonard. Leonard, while not being entirely at home with small children, did rather enjoy showing Little Sam how various things worked and encouraging her to do small experiments of her own.

[2] Thinking back on that as an adult, she could see why her parents were not surprised when she told them she wanted to become an engineer.

[3] Vimes supposed she should be more upset that Nobby was showing Little Sam how to pick locks, but, well, what if she needed it one day? So she very much Did Not Notice, and hoped Saul wouldn’t find out.

[4] Otto could imagine how long his life would last if Vimes saw her daughter on the front page of the Times.


	45. Hair

Sam had never been very girly or feminine. She had always kept her hair vaguely longish, but usually brushed it and left it at that.

So it was a mystery to her that Little Sam always came up to her to do her hair. She wasn't sure why Little Sam wouldn't go to her Da instead, who on the times he was allowed by Little Sam to do her hair, he did it up impeccably, having learned through years of association with other women the mysteries of braiding and curling and other fiddly things like that. Hell, when they had some Society do, it was Saul who did Sam's hair into a braid or a ponytail. [1]

But every day before Sam left for the Watch House, it was her that Little Sam would come tromping to, brush in hand, asking her Mummy to do her hair. And Vimes loved Little Sam very much.

So every day Little Sam was thrilled to get a crooked ponytail from her mother, or a braid with half of the hair curling out, and Vimes, while still puzzled by the whole thing, did enjoy the quiet moments spent with her daughter brushing and wrestling the mass of Little Sam's hair [2] into place.

* * *

[1]: Though that was about it, no matter how fancy or nobby the occasion. Sam had her limits. 

 

[2]: Sam, who had thin, stringy hair, was told by Saul that his hair used to be like Little Sam's before he had to start shaving it to work with the dragons. 


	46. Notes

Monday:

(found tucked inside Sam Vimes’ cigar case)

Samantha Dearest

Please remember what Doctor Lawn said about your diet at your appointment yesterday; perhaps maybe make your sandwich a TLT rather than a Blt?

Love,

Your Saul.

 

(sent by a runner to Ramkin Manor)

Saul

TLT?

Sam

 

(sent to Pseudopolis Yard by the same runner)

Tuna dear.

Saul.

 

(sent by pigeon to Ramkin Manor)

Sent Cheery out to look for some tuna but she must have misheard me and she came back with bacon. Less bacon than usual.

Sam

 

(sent by same pigeon back to Pseudopolis Yard)

That is rather odd since I always thought Cheery had remarkably good hearing. No matter, I am making a lovely tuna salad to go with the greens I picked up from the greengrocers. See you and Little Sam home soon my love.

Your Saul

 

Tuesday:

 

(left on the kitchen table)

Saul

Got in earlier than usual, and fed the dragons for you.

Love Sam.

 

(sent by clacks to Pseudopolis Yard)

What.

Your Saul

 

(sent by runner to Ramkin Manor)

Don’t worry, I fed them what you always feed them.

Sam

 

(sent by same runner back to Pseudopolis Yard)

Samantha my love,

While I really appreciate your lovely gesture of kindness, perhaps next time check with me or one of the cavern girls first? I think you accidentally gave everyone more coal than they needed as the dragons are currently flaming non-stop.

Your Saul

 

(clacks sent to Ramkin Manor)

Really?

Sam

 

(note sent by runner to Pseudopolis Yard)

I know what you are thinking Samantha Vimes and you can stop laughing now; they are NOT “doing an Errol” as you like to say. Can you pick up Little Sam today? I know it’s my day to do it but I’m trying to get everything under control here with the girls.

Saul

 

Wednesday:

(left on pillow in bed)

Saul

Little Sam is with me today.

Sam

 

(sent by runner to Pseudopolis Yard)

Lovely Samantha,

Do not worry, I didn’t forget that today is “Bring Your Offspring and/or Spawn To Work Day.” Please let Carrot know what a wonderful job he did with getting his idea set up.

Yours, Saul.

 

(sent by pigeon to Ramkin Manor)

If I can get through the pack of kids around him I will. Little Sam wants to add something

DA

having fun with Mum tho she wont let me see what Uncle Igor does in the basement okay love you bye

SAM

 

(sent by clacks to Pseudopolis Yard)

Samantha

What is that large cloud of colored smoke I see hanging over the Watch House?

Saul

 

(sent by clacks to Ramkin Manor)

We should never let Igor teach chemistry to a group of children again

Sam

 

Thursday:

(found on dressing table)

My wonderful Samantha

A reminder that some of my girlfriends will be over this afternoon. I’ll still be picking up Little Sam from school; the girls will want to see her.

See you this evening dearest

Saul

 

(note sent with runner from the Patrician’s Palace)

Saul you didn’t tell me your girlfriends were the wives of the ambassadors from Sto Kerrig and NoThingfjord

Sam

 

(note sent back with same runner)

What did you do

Saul

 

(note sent back with same runner yet again)

Sir Saul,

There was a small diplomatic incident here in the office today, where the diplomat from Sto Kerrig pinched the Commander in a certain area of her person and mentioned that he “liked a gel with spirit”, whereupon the Commander looked at him until he needed to change his clothes.

I hope this does not result in too much inconvenience and marital discord.

Lord Vetinari

 

(note sent with the same runner)

Havelock,

Thank you for your concern but we will be okay. I will have Anjelika meet Hans at the Palace rather than have him pick her up, as to prevent me from putting a boot up his arse.

Saul

 

(note sent by pigeon to Pseudopolis Yard)

Samantha love,

No worries my dear, though unfortunately Anjelika read the note that Lord Vetinari sent explaining the situation and I believe there may be some marital discord at the embassy tonight.

Yours, Saul

 

(note sent by pigeon to Ramkin Manor)

I love you.

Sam


	47. Exploring

It wasn’t until he married Sam that Saul realized how he had increasingly been headed down the path of being a recluse. Oddly enough, it was not his status as a Lord, but Sam’s position as Commander of the Watch that brought him back out into the whirl of society.[1]

When Little Sam was born, Saul was determined that his girl would never go down the road of being a shut in , like he had been. He wanted her to see Ankh-Morpork and love it like her mother did. Saul wanted his girl to know and be friends with people (and dwarves and trolls and the undead and…) outside of her”class”. He knew Sam would do the same as well, and probably better, but he wanted to have a go at it as well.

So until Little Sam was old enough to go to school, Saul took his daughter out everyday, and together they explored Ankh-Morpork.

——

They repeatedly went to the Royal Art Museum, becauseSaul rather liked art in all its forms and wanted Little Sam to get an appreciation for it as well.

“Besides, many of those used to hang up in here!” he told Sam one day which led to her giving him a rather funny look.

He probably shouldn’t tell her about the da Quirm in the attic.

——-  
Invited by Nobby Nobbs [2], they went to Hide Park one day to see a historical reenactment by the Peeled Nuts of one of the great many battles of Morporkian history.

To the utter surprise of all but two people there, there was an unexpected addition of a auburn headed five year old, who proceeded to whack the soldiers with great anatomical accuracy with her wooden sword until Nobby got ahold of her.

As consolation though, he let her help him rob the ‘corpses’ until Saul caught up with the both of them.

——-

They went to the embassy on the Maul when Diamond, King of Trolls was in town, and the king himself taught Little Sam the fundamentals of Thud.

Little Sam in turn was on her best manners, though unfortunately Little Sam got a poo question in before Saul could stop her.

Diamond, bless him, took it in stride and laughed.

——-

Once a week they went to the Watch House to take Little Sam’s mummy out to eat[4].

And once a month they went to the Palace to have lunch with Little Sam’s godsfather, Lord Vetinari.

Sam had turned purple and red when Saul mentioned that he had asked Vetinari to be their child’s godsfather and that he had accepted. Deep down though, Saul though that Sam was rather pleased. Sam respected the man.

And Vetinari lov-enjoyed the company of Little Sam, and showed her some[5] of the hidden passages, let her swivel in his chair behind his desk, and barely flinched when she called him “Uncle Haddock”

———-  
Saul knew Little Sam would love school, but my gods was he going to miss taking her out every day.

But as Little Sam told her own children many years later, “Your Gramps was my first teacher. Now go see where he’s taking you today.”

—————-

[1]Sam didn’t find this as funny as Saul for some reason.

[2] with whom Saul got along wonderfully [3] to Sam’s utter amazement. She had married a man who was second to Captain Carrot in both likeability and ability to get along with EVERYONE. It boggled her mind.

[3] on his part, Nobby never was tempted to pilfer anything from Saul. It would be akin to kicking a puppy. Not to mention that Vimes would go spare.

[4] this being Vimes, it could be breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

[5] not all, this IS Vetinari after all.


	48. Breakfast in Bed

Vimes wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing seven o clock twice in one day. She suffered through it when Little Sam was a baby, and thought she was done with that nonsense.

However, she was thinking she could reconsider seeing as seven am in the country brought two young ladies carrying platters of-

Vimes’ nose couldn’t believe it and neither could her eyes as the women brought out bacon and sausage and gravy and fried eggs.

Her husband had the notion that Sam should eat healthier, which boggled Sam’s mind as she had been eating the way she had with no trouble for 40 odd years now.

But she loved Saul, and, more importantly, at home he was the one who cooked and bought the food, so she contented herself with a Blt[1] at work and at the damn rabbit food at the house.

Saul noticed the look of avarice and utter want on his wife’s face. “It’s vacation, my dear. Eat what you like.”

Those were possibly some of the best words her husband had ever said to her.

——-

[1] Blt because it was BACON lettuce and tomato.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble based on Snuff.


	49. Tears of the Mushroom

She realized she was being watched, and looked over to see Tears of the Mushroom in the room.

Surreptitiously, she looked over at Little Sam, happily flipping her way through her new book. How was she going to react? Her lass was good-natured and polite as a six year old could be, but what if she shied away, was scared like another little girl had been in a dame school so many years ago?

What Little Sam did, the next time she looked up, was stare in awe at Tears of the Mushroom, and then promptly walked over to her and asked, “Can I play with your hair?”[1]

Vimes was about to get after her daughter for asking, but to her astonishment, Tears of the Mushroom simply laughed, and sat down on the ground to let Little Sam clamber around her. Her daughter began unbraiding, then rebraiding the goblin girl’s long white hair.

Far from being scared, Vimes realized, Little Sam was in heaven.

“I wish I had hair like yours,” Little Sam said. “What’s your name?”

Briefly turning around to look Little Sam in the eyes, she responded “I am Tears of the Mushroom.”

She then had Little Sam drop her hair and envelop her in a hug, shouting “Mushrooms shouldn’t cry!”

Tears of the Mushroom looked at Vimes utterly shocked for a second before timidly patting Little Sam on the back.

[1] Vimes was quickly discovering that her daughter had a Thing about hair. Little Sam’s hair was already half way down her back and she refused to let her parents cut it[2].

[2] When they had tried, it was one of the only times so far in Little Sam’s life that she had thrown a tantrum. Her parents let it be after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have "Snuff" with me, so expect some book based drabbles over the next few days


	50. Bank Opening

From the byline of the Ankh Morpork Times, c. 1995

“Moist Von Lipwig (30), helps open the newest branch of the Bank with Watch Commander Lady Sam Vimes (54), accompanied by daughter Sybil 'Little Sam' Vimes (5)”

 

* * *


	51. The Ride Back

The coach ride back to Ramkin Hall was silent.

With one hand, Saul stroked Little Sam’s hair, her head in his lap as she was fast asleep. The other hand held his wife’s hand.

He cleared his throat. “Sam, I know I asked you not to bring the Watchman out here with you…and I got after you about it. But…I think I was wrong, this time.”

Vimes smiled, and patted her husband’s hand.

“No Saul. Any other time, you would have been well within your rights to say something. Just…”

“Not this time?” Saul said, raising an eyebrow.

Vimes looked slightly sheepish. “Yes.”

There was silence again, then Saul spoke up.

“Do you have any suspects in mind Sam?”

She nodded. “Yes, two men.”

Lord Ramkin [1] thought for a second.

“Samantha, I want you to hunt those bastards down. I want them to rot in the Tanty.”

She could feel him trembling with rage, a feeling she was all too familiar with. She leaned in and rubbed his shoulders.

“I will.”

————————

[1] Vimes noted that just as there were several sides of herself, so did her husband have something similar. There was Saul, the man she loved and married. And then when Saul’s near-limitless patience reached the end of it’s rope, there was Lord Ramkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So actually, I ended up doing five drabbles based on Snuff. :)


	52. Unexpected Babysitting

"We will have another guest with us today on our tour of the Undertaking," Vetinari said, moving a piece across the Thud board.

Margolotta arched a brow. “Oh?” This was supposed to be just her and Vetinari on this trip, outside of the project managers they would meet there.

Havelock looked…no, a man like him could not look abashed, so let us just say slightly discomfited.

“I am afraid forces outside of my control insisted.”

Margolotta was about ask when she got her answer in the form of a ridiculously tall man being shown in, followed by a little girl.

“Hallo Havelock!” the large bald man greeted. The little girl screeched “Uncle Havvy!” and launched herself into the Patrician’s lap. [1]

Margolotta was shocked at their temerity, until she caught sight of the man’s face and-

“I believe we met briefly in Uberwald about seven years ago?” the man took her hand and kissed it. “I am Lord Ramkin-Vimes, and this is my daughter-“

Saul realized that his daughter was not next to him but on the Patrician’s lap.

“Little Sam! Give your Uncle some air and come over for a minute.”

The little girl complied and came over. She had to be no more than six, and had a mass of frizzy auburn hair inexpertly put back into a pony tail, a green shirt with a dragon on it, and a red skirt.

“My Lady, this is my daughter Samantha. Samantha, this is Lady Margolotta, an old friend of your uncle’s.”[2]

“Hallo Lady Marg…Margola…”

Vetinari intervened then, sensing trouble imminent. “Call her Lady M, Samantha.”

Samantha looked at Margolotta solemnly, then smiled and nodded. “Okay! Can I go see Uncle Leo?”

"That is an excellent idea," Vetinari said with a tiny hint of relief. “He should be waiting for you in the room down the hall where you set your experiment up last week."

This was all the permission Little Sam needed and she rocketed out of the door.

"Thanks for watching her again Havelock," Saul said. He turned to leave. “Sam will be by in a few hours to pick her up." [3]

There was silence for a second after he left, only interrupted by the sound of a minor explosion down the hall, and giggles.

Margolotta looked at Vetinari.

"She is my godsdaughter, and this is my day of the week to look after her," he explained calmly.

"I am amazed that you let that man force the child on you," Margolotta said.[4]

Vetinari thought before answering. There was the dry, politically expedient answer he could give, especially as Margolotta was a keen, if not keener player of the Game than he was.

But they had known each other for a very long time.

And this trip for her was not entirely all for business.

"It’s not force, it’s choice," he finally said, thinking of Saul, one of the only people who ever called him a friend.

Saul, who saw that Vetinari had no family, and was determined to bring him into his own.

Little Sam, who he both had plans for, and, in the deepest, most secret part of him, he had to admit he adored, in his own way.

After a minute, Margolotta nodded. She knew when to let certain things lie.

And, as the day went on, it wasn’t all bad as Little Sam went running off in the tunnel with Grag Bashfullsson to look at some waterproofing features, leaving Vetinari and Margolotta alone.  
___________________

[1] though, Margolotta absently noted, she did so in away to avoid putting her weight on Havelock’s bad leg

[2] She could not believe that man just said that with a straight face.

 

[3] Because a perverse little imp lived in Saul, and couldn’t pass up the opportunity when he saw Margolotta there.

 

[4] Margolotta did not care much for children, and before today, she would have thought Vetinari felt the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the tumblr prompt 
> 
> Please may i have margolotta and vetinari babysitting young sam because Vimes has palmed him off on his godfather for the evening like the crafty git he is? 
> 
> Which I immediately shoehorned into my verse. :)


	53. Smoke Break

Somedays, Vimes reflected smoking a cigar, there was nothing more she could do than stand back and take a smoke break.

  
She took another drag of her cigar as Dorfl and some other Golems from the Trust set about bringing up the River Patrol from the bottom of the Ankh.

 

Again.

 


	54. First Day of School

It was Little Sam’s first day of school, and Big Sam had insisted on being the one to take her. Saul raised an eyebrow: he suspected that his wife wanted to take a copper’s look at the building and staff as much as she genuinely wanted to see Little Sam off, but let it pass, opting instead to enjoy watching Sam inexpertly put Little Sam’s hair into a pony tail.  
  
The Quirm College for Young Ladies was right out. Sam was horrified at the idea of having her daughter spend much of her childhood away from her. And Saul, having listened to some of his girlfriend’s tales about the place, suspected it to be a female version of his school, Huddlestones. However, the same ladies spoke very highly of an old girl who was teaching in town, Susan, Duchess of Sto-Helit. Or now, Miss Susan.  
  
Thus at 7am sharp (Much to Sam’s chagrin; she still wasn’t used to two sevens in one day), the two Sams walked to the Frout Academy for Inquiring Minds. They were met out front by an intimidating looking woman with, bigods thought Sam, white hair. Still, she knelt down to introduce herself to Little Sam, who asked if they were going to learn about poo in class or not.  
  
The answer would have to wait as Miss Susan and Sam were currently glaring at each other. It was the glare of two people who recognized in the other something rather dangerous. Sam’s hands tightened on Little Sam’s soldiers, but then relaxed at the same time the pale lines on Miss Susan’s face faded away.  
  
Sam knew she could trust Susan to take care of her girl.  
  
And hopefully steer her to another topic besides poo.


	55. The Night Before Hogswatch

Vimes was a little stumped this year when it came to her daughter, and Hogswatch.[1]

Little Sam had told them that she wanted some building blocks and a truncheon and handcuffs for her to play with [2], and they were already at home waiting under the tree, along with a stuffed animal, and one or two other things.

But it still felt like there was something missing. It didn’t help that Vimes had been feeling out of sorts since Little Sam had started school earlier in the year. Her lass was growing up.

She stopped on the bridge over the river as the clocks across the city chimed, bonged, and awoogahed [3] that it was five in the morning. She looked out on the Ankh and took a minute to light up and start smoking a cigar before she got home.[4]

A boot bobbed by down below as she took a deep drag. It certainly wasn’t like she never saw her daughter; she helped do her hair up in the mornings, and timed her dinner breaks to start by picking Little Sam up.[5] Still, her little girl was going to school now, and….

A “meep” by her feet interrupted Vimes’ thoughts. She looked down to see an impossibly tiny kitten, tucked into the spokes of the bridge. Vimes bent down to pick it-no, her- up. She was a tortie, and was small enough that she was probably the runt of the litter, left behind by her mum.

The kitten began to purr in her hands, curling up in the meager warmth that they offered, and Vimes remembered all the times this past year that Little Sam had asked for a pet if some kind.

Her lass was growing up, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It just was.

She checked the kitten for fleas and then tucked her into her armor[6], took one last drag on her cigar, and headed home.

—-

An hour later, and the three of them sat in the living room, now covered in wrapping paper and empty boxes. Vimes was looking a little incongruous in her armor, having barely stepped into the house before a buzzing ball of energy that was her daughter came bouncing down the stairs dragging her father behind her.

"Did you have a good Hogswatch?" Saul asked like he did every year.

"Yes sir," Little Sam said, engrossed in her building blocks.

"Think you can fit one more present in?" Vimes asked, reaching into her armor. [8]

Little Sam recognized that gesture and was on her mum’s lap in a flash.

"Close your eyes," Vimes said, and pulled out the kitten, still sleeping, and put her onto Little Sam’s lap.

Little Sam opened her eyes, and then kept opening them until they were as big as saucers. She began to pet the kitten, who started to purr.

She looked at her Mum agape, frozen with sheer utter happiness.[9]

"You’re getting older my girl, so I figured you could handle taking care of a pet."

Little Sam solemnly nodded. “I’ll feed her every day and brush her and keep her warm.” A slightly panicked look crossed her face. “What do cats eat? Do I have to find mice for her?”

Vimes hugged her daughter. “No she’ll find those herself and we’ll help you get started.”

Saul leaned over to pet the kitten. “What are you going to name her my gel?”

"Grover!"

Vimes and Saul looked at each other for a minute before realizing that neither of them really had any room to talk.

"That is a lovely name my dear," Saul said without a hitch.

He leaned in to kiss Little Sam on the forehead and then Big Sam on the lips.

"Merry Hogswatch my dears."

Vimes smiled, for once completely content.

"Merry Hogswatch."

——————————————————

[1] which was horribly unfair; having them talk was supposed to make this whole business easier.

[2] some little girls had dresses and tiaras to play dress up in. Little Sam had armor made out of sturdy cardboard, a little wooden sword, and a replica of her mums badge made from tin metal.

[3] the Trespassers Guild, still upset about the name change, had made sure to find the most annoying bell they could find when fixing their clock the last time.

[4] normally when it was this cold she would wait until she was at home and in the warm, but since it was Hogswatch, once she opened that door, Little Sam’s Hogswatch senses would go off and she’d promptly go jump on her father in bed to let him know that mum was home and that it was time to open presents.

[5] Vimes currently took a few hours in the early evening to have dinner and see Saul and Little Sam before heading back to the Watch House for a while after that.

[6] Vimes, like several other Watchwomen, found that the little space between her breasts and armor made an excellent purse. [7]

[7] a habit she kept in plain clothes too, to the despair of her husband.

[8] Which immediately got her a look from her husband which in many other universes could be called a “dafuq” look.

[9] as did Saul who honestly didn’t mind getting Little Sam a cat, really it was a perfect surprise, but usually Sam let him know when she did stuff like this.


	56. Fight

Jefferson was not expecting his foot to be caught.

Or the kick in the kneecaps.

What he least expected of all was that Vimes, who was barely over 5 feet and was probably 120 pounds soaking wet, if that, actually picked him up off the ground and tossed him over her shoulder.

And then she had gotten them on the ground, and she was on top, with a knee to the unmentionables [1] and she was hissing in his ear and….

He lost. He actually lost to the damned duchess.

———————————-

[1] When Vimes said she fought dirty, she meant it. [2]

[2] And taught all of her equally non-fair play minded female comrades the best places to aim and yank besides the more obvious ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Snuff drabble.........for now. :)


	57. Take Your Offspring to Work Day

 

Normally Vimes was very wary Carrot’s ‘bright’ ideas. “Take Your Daughter/Dwarf/Offspring/Hatchling To Work Day” sounded like it was going to be another one of them.  
  
  
But looking down at the badge that Little Sam carved out of a potato, to match her Mummy’s, and with her helmet swallowing her face, Vimes had to admit that sometimes Carrot had good ideas.  
  
——————-  
  
Or, how Little Sam becomes the unofficial Watch mascot.


	58. A Day Out

Saul was spending an afternoon discussing swamp dragons with Brenda, and as Sam got enough of that at home thank you very much, she decided to take Little Sam to the zoo.

  
Besides, she figured Saul would like a nice long natter with one of his oldest friends.

  
Little Sam was utterly enraptured. The care and love that her father had towards swamp dragons Little Sam had towards, well, everything. Vimes was subsequently dragged from one cage to another, by the suddenly strong grip of a six year old girl determined to see every single animal at the zoo, preferably twice.

Vimes didn’t mind. She was content to enjoy her daughter’s company, the feel of Saul’s heavy wool sweater on her, the rare feeling of the swish of a skirt, and the ice creams that she had gotten for Little Sam and herself.

Though the day took an unexpected turn for the familiarly stinky when the zookeepers recognized Vimes as the savior of the Magnificent Fanny, and after a moment’s talk, invited Little Sam in the company of her mother to collect some poo samples.

The sound that came out of her daughter’s mouth, Vimes later reflected, was not human.

 


	59. Vacation Planned

Little Sam beat Saul to Vimes when she got back to the Manor from Quirm, and leapt into Vimes’ arms.

“Mum! Mum! I learned how to milk a goat! You got to pull on its tits and they’re wiggly-wigglier than yo-“

“Lass, what did I say about that word?” Vimes said, but held Little Sam tighter as she rambled on about all the highly interesting types of poo that she had found in only the course of two days.

Saul caught up. “My goodness Samantha Vimes. I let you out of my sight for two days and you come back a big damn hero again! Fighting on the deck of a boat? Chasing suspects down the river? Honestly, if you put our child down, I would love to show my appreciation.”

Little Sam proceeded to screech “EWWWWWWWW”, but Saul and Sam, with the long time practice that came with parenting, ignored her and went on for a few minutes.

When they were done scarring their daughter for life [1], Vimes groaned. “That is a real damned Clacks tower isn’t it? That means The Times will have got their bloody hands all over this.

Saul grinned. “Yes love, and with a cartoon to match. Honestly dear, all this heroing…you can eat whatever you want for dinner tonight!”

A wicked grin came onto Sam’s face, and she whispered something into Saul’s ear that made him blush and go “Yes, of course, but later!”

Of course, Sam’s mind being the way it was, all treachery and suspicion, she had to ask the thing that kept popping up in her head over the course of this whole trip.

“Saul, did you talk about our holiday plans when you last dropped Little Sam off with Vetinari?”

He looked surprised. “Well yes dear, the man IS your boss, more or less. It was at one time or the other I was dropping Little Sam off-I can’t remember exactly, you know she goes to see him every week. But it was no trouble; he agreed that you needed to take a break.”

“So…he didn’t actually suggest that we come down to the Shires,” she asked.

“Oh gods, I can’t remember Sam, in between ferrying Little Sam around. We just generally talked about it and that was that.”

Vimes let it go. There were depths to Saul that not even she knew about. [2]

Besides, things were already in motion here anyway.

———————————————-

[1] In Little Sam’s mind, anyway.

[2] Just as there were parts of Sam that Saul was not privy to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WRITE ALL THE SNUFF DRABBLES


	60. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the wonderful sir-fleetfoot on tumblr who gave me this prompt
> 
> “what would have happened if Vimes ever encounters Granny Weatherwax (post Snuff, with the Dark inside him and all)”
> 
> I had a hard time writing this, especially as I've never written the Witches before, but I hope you enjoy!

“Why are we having them over to dinner again?” Sam Vimes asked her husband as he put her hair up for the evening.[1]

“Because you are the Duchess of Ankh, and they are the King and Queen of Lancre, and don’t make that face Sam you know it’s true.”

Vimes’ mouth tried to unscowl and failed horribly. “I could figure that much out Saul, but I mean, why a dinner as opposed to a ball or whatever foolishness we usually have to go to?”

Saul grabbed another five hairpins;[2] “Well, they brought their little girl along, and I was just mentioning to Havelock the other day that our daughters could play while we had dinner, and honestly they would both be happier than being left behind or stuck at some stuffy function.”

Vimes winced as Saul gave a piece of her hair a tug, and thought once again about how much she really loved Saul.[3] “There’s something else too, isn’t there?”

There was no fooling a copper, Saul ruefully reflected. “Verence and Magrat[4] are accompanied by two women who, er…well, to be honest, they would leave an even worst impression on Society than you have my dear.”

He got a smile at this. “Oh really?”

“Yes. Probably because they’re witches.”

“Hmm.” Vimes wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, anyone who Vetinari considered likely to piss off the nobs was alright in her books. On the other hand, she had enough of that magic shit to last her a life time.

Unbidden, her wrist itched.

The Queen and King of Lancre, their daughter the Princess of Lancre, and their retinue arrived at seven.

Or, to be more accurately put, Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, Magrat, and her husband and daughter came over at seven.

_______

When they came in, before introductions could even be made, Little Sam, who was excited to be meeting a new girl her age to play with, ran up to Princess Esmerelda Margaret Note Spelling and said, “I’m Samantha! Wanna go see my dad’s dragons?”[5]

Esme’s eyes lit up. “Dragons?” A wide grin came on to her face, and she took Little Sam’s hand, and the two terribly overexcited little girls ran off before their parents could even get a word in.

There was a moment of shared mutual embarrassment by two sets of parents and then Nanny Ogg laughed.

"Your lass goes after who she wants? That’ll serve her well when she’s courting!" Nanny said, and the awkward silence was broken.

____

All in all, Saul reflected while chewing on a particularly difficult piece of beef, dinner was going quite well.

True, Verence had a bit of that odd air about him that came with an education at the Fool’s Guild, but he had some damn good ideas in his head, even if Lancre wasn’t perhaps ready for some of them yet.[6] Magrat reminded him of one of his old girlfriends, a gel named Letty who weighed 80 pounds if soaking wet, wore three or four long trailing scarves that made her look like a bag lady as opposed to arty, constantly tried to get the attention of the older girls at her school, and once bent a steel bar in almost half from sheer fury.

As for Nanny Ogg, she was an absolute treat, even if half the things she said left him blushing bright cherry red.

The only problem was sitting next to him.

And across the table from him as well.

His wife and Granny Weatherwax had spent the entire meal staring at each other, not saying twenty words between the two of them.

He couldn’t for the life of him imagine what the problem could be, which is why for once he let it slide when dinner was over and they were waiting for the dessert, Sam got up and said tersely, “I will be right back,” and left the room, holding her cigar case.

A pause, and then Granny said, “Gytha, give me your pipe, I need to have a smoke.”

Nanny proffered said pipe [7], and Granny stomped out after Vimes.

———

Vimes went into the room where she smoked when it was too damn cold to go outside [9]. It was pitch black in the room, but Vimes had no trouble making her way to the couch that was in there.

Ever since the goblin cave, she hadn’t bothered with grabbing a lantern or lighting the candles in the smoking room. She knew she could see in there.

She didn’t want to see in the pitch dark, but since she could, Vimes figured there was no fighting it. Or wasting candles for that matter. [11]

She put her feet up on the foot stool in front of the couch, grabbed a cigar out of her little silver case, and lit a match.

In the light of the match, Granny joined her on the couch.

Vimes looked at Granny for a moment, and finally said, “Need a light?”

"No."

Vimes grunted, lit her cigar, and let the match go out, leaving the two of them sitting in the black together.

Saul hadn’t gotten it quite right: Granny and Vimes weren’t glaring at each other, just regarding one another. [12]

Granny had copper’s eyes, Vimes had noticed. [13] They were eyes that had seen far too much of the worst that people could offer, that saw what the owner could do and become if they let themselves go.

She knew because she saw the same eyes in her mirror every morning, albeit grey instead of blue.

Granny noticed the mark on Vimes’ wrist, felt the demon that accompanied Vimes…because she was the first person to ever defeat it and win.

The Dark in Vimes noticed Granny, and inched back a bit, because losing to one person was bad enough, but two might break it all together.

There were no words that needed to be said, here in the dark, nothing to be done or fought.

Just two women who understood each other completely, and were content to sit and be with that knowledge. [14]

_____________

[1] He was trying for a bun; Sam had grown it out a little more than usual because Little Sam wanted to play with her hair.

[2] This bun was going to happen damnit.

[3] Because there was no one else in the world for which she would put up with suggesting that she do her hair, let along actually messing with it.

[4] King Verence and Queen Magrat, Saul knew, but a. he had a feeling they really wouldn’t mind being addressed by their first names once introductions were done and b. Sam was already upset enough by having to host a dinner for royalty so he wasn’t going to rub it in.

[5] Little Sam had gotten permission from her dad earlier in the day to show Esme his dragons because one of the cavern girls would be in there to keep an eye on both dragons and small children. He just wasn’t expecting his daughter to drag off the Princess of Lancre.

[6] He had been gently hinting this when Verence brought up the possibility of a bus and Underground system, to the silent approval of the Lancarian ladies at the table.

[7] And Magrat gave a wifely tread on her husband’s toes to prevent him from saying something along the lines of “But Granny, you don’t smoke.” Magrat could tell there was something about Sam Vimes that was bothering Granny, and the look that Nanny and her had given each other earlier agreed that it was probably best to let the two of them hash it out. [8]

[8] Which was coincidentally the conclusion that Saul had come to on his own.

[9] She would put up with the cold when patrolling or otherwise on duty, but if left to her own devices, Vimes would wrap up in 10 different coats and blankets and not come out of the house until it was spring.[10]

[10] Saul figured it was because Sam was so short and scrawny; she got colder easier than most. Saul most assuredly did not bring this up to Sam.

[11] Old, money saving habits dying hard.

[12] Like two cats circling each other, deciding if they were going to fight or be friends.

[13] though she was informed that Lancre didn’t have a police force so much as Our Shawn.

[14] Of course, the moment was ruined when Little Sam and Esme ran in and jumped on their respective grown person’s laps[15] to inform them that there was a hutch of eggs about to hatch and Verity, Saul’s helper with the dragons, said that they could help her through the night if they got permission, so can Esme stay the night please Mummy?

[15] It bemused Nanny to no end that Esme would give Granny hugs and sit on her lap. The first few times it happened, Granny froze up in a rare moment of uncertainty.

But she didn’t stop Esme from doing it either, Granny wryly noted.


	61. Walking

Little Sam loved her Da, who was the first person to teach her about animals, and made the best sandwiches, and didn’t mind that she preferred to play with swords and toy soldiers[1] rather than dolls and dress up.

But she loved, loved, loved her Mummy.

——

Her earliest memories of her Ma were all senses; the smell of cheap cigars, the feel of leather and cold metal, of scarred but strong hands, and the sound of her mother’s voice, rough and gravelly from years of yelling, smoking, and drinking, reading “Where’s My Cow.”

——-

Vimes had gotten into the habit of doing her paperwork one handed, so she could hold Little Sam in the other, during the months that she had Little Sam with her at the Watch House.

It wasn’t that Little Sam would fuss if she was put down, but Vimes…just wanted to hold her daughter, to know that she was safe and and for Little Sam to know she was loved.

Little Sam knew she was always safe with her mother. Always.

——

Her Mummy was a Watchman.

The Commander of the Watch, actually.

And long before she understood all that entailed and why some nights her father paced the floor in worry and that one awful time where a sword got through…

Yes. Well.

Long before that, when she was small, Little Sam just saw the Watch as the best kind of circus/school/playground with her mummy as the ringleader of it all.

So the dwarf and troll officers taught her the basics of their languages, which Vimes found out when Little Sam cussed out Lord Selachii.[2] Cheery showed her how to make her own explosives, and Igor would have let her sit in on a autopsy if it weren’t for the stormy forbidding look on Vimes’ face, so he settled for teaching her as much about the human body and how it was put together as he could.

There was the afternoon that AE Pessimal took her aside, and showed her how to write her name out. As it was the same as her mummy’s, she presented the paper that read “sAm viMeSs” to her, who then promptly tacked it to her door.[3] And there was Detritus, who, as Little Sam solemnly told her Mummy one day, gave the best piggy back rides.

Angua, to Vimes’ and Carrot’s surprise, acquiesced with no problem at all when Little Sam asked to see her as a wolf. The day ended with Little Sam and Angua curled up together asleep on her and Carrot’s bed in their room at the Yard, Little Sam using Angua as a blonde furry pillow. Carrot took an iconograph and gave a copy to the two of them. As for Carrot, if her Ma would let her, she would be attached like a lamprey to his leg. [4]

Fred, who openly wept when he saw Little Sam for the first time, took her to All Jolson’s for her first slumpie. And then there was the infamous time Nobby tried to teach her to pick pockets before her mother came in and hauled Nobby off for a talking to.

And through it all, leading all her aunts and uncles,was her Mummy, shouting and yelling…and encouraging and helping at the same time.

There was no one else in the world Little Sam looked up to than her mummy.

——-

Her father, before she went to school, took her out every day, that was true. And she loved all the shenanigans that they got into, especially the day there was that spontaneous parade and there was the two cartloads of chickens and then she and Da somehow ended up at the front.

But she treasured the times that her mother took her out.

——-

There were solemn moments.

One of her earliest memories was being held in her mother’s arms, with her mummy standing in front of a grave at Small Gods, the small stone saying only “Mary Vimes”

“This is your grand mum Samantha.”

———

Of course, there were many more adventures as well.

Usually ending with “Let’s not tell your Da about this” or “When we get home and your Da asks about the char marks let me do the talking lass.”

——-

Frequently she was taken to the Gibbet, and she would cling to the dummy while her Mummy pushed her as high as she could go.

———

She had her first rat at age 4, in the company of Grag Bashfullson at a lunch meeting her mother was having with him at Gimlet’s.

“So this is the little girl who saved us all at Koom Valley,” he remarked, as he shook Little Sam’s hand, which greatly pleased her.

She didn’t understand that remark or her mother’s pained look at Bashfullson and the sudden wrist rub until much later of course.

Her budding gourmand offered Vimes some rat onna stick later, but she just blanched, much to the mirth of Bashfullson.

———

“And what are we walking on now?” Vimes asked her daughter as they walked through the Shades.

Little Sam thought for a minute, ground her feet like she had seen her mummy do[5] into the cobbles of the street, and then triumphantly proclaimed “The ground!!”

Vimes sighed. “Yes dear, the ground.”

——

“Ma! Mummy! Mum! I can see that lady’s tits!”

“So you can dear,” Vimes said, and walked them past the Seamstress’ Guild a little faster[6]. “Where did you hear that word at?”

“You! Said your armor made your tits hurt somethin awful at times.”

Vimes sighed. Damn, she was going to have to start watching her mouth.

———-  
  
Little Sam thought about all this and more when she laid her newborn son into her mother’s arms for the first time.

“He’s named Samuel. For you.”

* * *

 

[1] though she did also use her toy soldiers for games of House in between bloody battles

[2] and oh didn’t Vimes regret having to give that lecture to Little Sam. The look on Lord Selachii’s face as he was called unspeakable things in Dwarvish by a seven year old was priceless.

[3] the Watchmen knew not to make a big deal of such displays, but honestly, most everyone thought it was rather sweet.

[4] and don’t think Samantha Vimes missed the looks that Carrot and Angua gave at each other now with Little Sam around. Sam gave it another few more years, but she could just see a mini Carrot or Angua running around like Little Sam was in the future.

[5] which for anyone else but Vimes would have resulted in a loveheartsplosion, and even she got a little gushy inside.

[6] Vimes had no objection against ladies of negotiable affection, and of course as a city girl Little Sam would find out soon enough but Sam REALLY did not want to have that discussion with a six year old on the street.


	62. Hug

 

Samantha was leaving for the Guild at the same time as her mother was leaving for work.

"I’ll walk you to the Watch House," she said cheekily.

Her mother smirked, and pulled Samantha in for a hug. “Don’t think you are too old or too tall[1] for me to give you a hiding lass."

Samantha just laughed and together they walked out the door.

————

[1] Samantha, like Saul, was rather tall. She was taller than her mum by almost an entire foot.


	63. Sam Vimes and Her Tall People

 

After the portrait they took with Otto at Koom Valley when Samantha was a baby, Saul and Sam had gotten into the habit of having a family portrait done once a year around that time.

This year, Samantha, who was a grown woman and an engineer and all of that, said “I want to make a mum sandwich!"

Thus, Sam Vimes was positioned between the two people who were both heads taller than her.

Honestly though, she really didn’t mind. She had her husband and her daughter in her arms, and that was all she could want.


	64. Five Dents that Sam Vimes Put in the Palace Wall

1.

“A troll, a dwarf, and a werewolf. In MY Watch.”

“The matter is closed for discussion Captain. Good day.”

Even looking down at his papers, Vetinari could sense that Vimes was quivering with anger. [1]

“Sir,” she finally snapped and left the room.

The door closed and then he heard a hard thump outside. He tensed for a second before realizing what it was, and smiled softly.

Drumknott came in a few minutes later, agitated.

“That woman left a dent in the wall! She punched it like she was at a tavern!” Drumknott had never sounded more affronted.

“Have it repaired, perhaps by someone who can be called in frequently.”

“My Lord, you don’t mind?” [2]

Vetinari just arched an eyebrow and went back to work. Drumknott sighed a bit inwardly and went to fetch the plasterer. [3]

 

2.

He had had the damn axe that she-er, an unknown individual had left embedded in the table in the Rats Chamber, tuned. Tuned!

She found out the first City Council meeting she had to attend after the Patrician had recovered from his poisoning, and he called the table to attention by pinging the axe, which meant everyone stared at her with rather pained looks on their faces.

She enjoyed the pained looks but still left a dent in the wall outside of his office for the sheer effrontery of it.

Damn that man.

 

3.

She about near put her fist through the wall during the Leshp business, and the brief period that Vetinari was out of the office.

It was that or Lord Rust’s face.[4]

 

4.

“Commander, I feel it best that you remain on desk duty for the course of your pregnancy.”

Sam Vimes, six months pregnant [5], actually lost her cool for a second and gaped at him, before regaining her composure.

“Sir, I am more than capable of staying on duty until I have the baby. I still have been able to run during pursuit [7], I tested this armor and it works fine [8], I’ve had no problems patrolling [10]…”

"You and I both know that if any of your female officers became pregnant, they would have been remaindered at a desk far earlier than six months."

"Well, that’s different. They aren’t the Commander of the Watch."

 

She had a thought, a memory of cold water and claws and red in the back of her mind.

"Besides, you had no problem sending me to Uberwald when I was pregnant."

The Patrician raised an eyebrow. “I was unaware of your pregnancy at the time Commander.”

That bastard, of course he knew, and she couldn’t call him on his bluff because she could have told him at the time and she didn’t because she was afraid it would lead to situations like this and arrrrrrrghhhhh.

Vetinari steepled his fingers and looked over them. “Commander, I believe I gave you an order-“

"And it’s a damn stupid one!" Vimes snapped back, riding high on the fear of being forced to stay at her desk.

Both eyebrows raised, which normally would have alarmed Vimes, but instead failed to draw notice from her, not only because she was so damn angry, but because the baby was kicking as well.

He pulled out his ace in the hole. “Commander, I do believe that Sir Saul would sleep a little better at night knowing that you were temporarily cutting back on your active duties for the remainder of your pregnancy.”

Saul did want her to take it easy. Godsdamn that man for playing the card she could never beat, and knowing that he knew how to play her and-

Vimes saluted. “Sir”.

Then she turned, walked out of the Patrician’s office, and punched a hole through that stupid fucking wall.

5.

She left a dent in the wall after being told about Gravid Rust.

However, she noticed, oddly, that it wasn’t being filled in like usual.

It wasn’t filled in until four months later, with reports from XXXX about Gravid’s timely death [11] from a spider bite.

She nodded at Vetinari when she walked in, he raised an eyebrow, and all was well in the world.  
____________

[1] probably more from being told what to do with HER Watch rather than actually employing dwarves, trolls, and the undead. Vetinari was getting the sense that Vimes disliked everyone equally.

[2] Drumknott was still relatively new.

[3] 300 years later, during a renovation of the Patrician’s Palace, historians would wonder why one part of a wall outside the Oblong Office was about 18 inches thicker than the rest of the wall.

[4] she was a wee bit jealous when Saul broke his nose a few weeks later.

[5] and thanks to her stature, looking like she was three weeks overdue.[6]

[6] even someone as unconcerned with appearances as Sam Vimes wasn’t pleased with looking like a toothpick with a fat grape stuck through it.

[7] followed by puking, but she was damned if she would mention that to Vetinari

[8] tested by putting it on a dummy and letting the trainees shoot at it to make sure nothing would get through, though she was damned if she would mention that to Vetinari, or more importantly, Saul. [9]

[9] Saul had figured it out already. He knew his wife, and more importantly, noticed the dents in her maternity armor.

[10] Well, her feet had swollen to twice their size it seemed and her back hurt, and half of the familiar smells in Ankh-Morpork made her want to puke but Vetinari really didn’t need to know that.

[11] William deWorde had ways of making his thoughts known, despite the paper’s official policy of impartiality.


	65. Four Women Sam Vimes Hired

1\. Precious Jolson

Vimes had been going to All Jolson’s for years, so of course she recognized Precious when she was shown into her office [1], though she couldn’t figure out what brought her in.

“Mr. Fred…er, Sergeant Colon told me you were hiring Miz Vi-Commander.”

Ah. Still, Precious was the oldest [3], and Vimes had assumed that All would eventually leave the place to her.

She started with the standard first question. “Why do you want to join the Watch, Ms. Jolson?”

A Look came across Precious’ face.

”I can’t cook.”

The tone of Precious’ voice made it clear that this was a topic of both long contention and one that was not up for discussion. Vimes inwardly boggled at the idea of any child of All’s being unable to work, if not culinary magic, then basic necessities, but all she said was

“Well, we have a pretty good canteen downstairs…”  
—-

2\. Muna Al McSweeney [5]

“I see that you’re from Klatch…a D’Reg yes?”

Across the desk, Muna noticeably stiffened and bristled. They were going to have to work on that; a copper couldn’t give away her feelings that easily. [6]

Muna curtly nodded, a wary look in her eye.

”Some of the best damn fighters I’ve ever seen; you’ll do just fine here in Ankh-Morpork.”

Muna visibly relaxed, and that was a tell she’d have to work on, large sword or not.

“My uncle said that you were an honorable woman; he recommended that I start my career here.”

Bells began to go off in Vimes’ head. “Who is your Uncle again?”

Muna grinned, a wicked smile that all the sudden looked familiar. “You know him as 71- Hour Ahmed.”

—-

3\. Mary Anders

“Does the Watch still offer barracks? Er, for rent of course? I mean, for single officers. I mean…”

The poor girl flustered herself into silence.

“We do have barracks, and there is a small fee, though it can be taken straight out of your pay if that is what you would prefer.”[10] Thinking of that, something compelled her to mention, “If there is someone, like your old mum, that you would like to give part of your wages to we can do that too…”

“NO. Er, I mean, no, I mean sorry ma’am, er, commander, er…” Mary trailed off again.

Vimes took a second look at the painfully young woman in front of her. Signs of living rough recently, hair recently and roughly chopped off, the look she gave Sally on the way in…

Oh. Poor lass. It was like that was it?

Vimes could never imagine a day where she would throw her daughter on the street, especially for something as minor as, if she was reading her new recruit right, who she chose to walk out with.

"Ms. Anders, if you would like, you can move in today of course," Vimes offered [12] and pretended not to notice the immense look of relief on the girl’s face.

"Thank you ma’am."

———-

4\. Gypsum

"I don’t have to polish do I?"

Vimes, a foot rocking Little Sam’s cradle, frantically tried to think for a second what could the young troll in front of her meant and oh yes, she heard Ruby talking about this the last time she had come to see Detritus at the Yard…

"No. As long as you are in uniform, I don’t care how feminine, masculine, and or otherwise you choose to present yourself."

"Really?"

"Lass, until however you adorn yourself presents a handhold for a nick to grab on, I or anyone will not hassle you over it. I care about the job you do, not how you look doing it."

Gypsum thought for a minute, and then gave an even more dazzling than usual for trolls smile, which Vimes just knew would have some of her younger officers lining up to throw rocks at the new recruit.

"Good."  
_____________

[1] All, like many restaurant owners across the universe, had his kids working as servers and waitstaff. [2]

[2] to be fair though, in turn it was expected of the clientele to tip generously, or slumpie would leave the menu.

[3] there was Precious, Darling, Dearest, Honey, and Annette. [4]

[4] Mrs Jolson had put her foot down at her husband’s suggestion that they name their youngest Sweetie.

[5] the McSweeney clan really, Really got around.

[6] Vimes had already decided to hire her [7]and was going through the agonizingly “necessary” technicality of the rest of the interview. [9]

[7] Vimes had good instincts, and she could usually tell within a minute if someone would be a good copper or not. [8]

[8] there was also the fact that Muna did bring her own rather sharp and large sword.

[9] Pah. There used to not be so much damn paperwork and fuss.

[10] Pessimal had set it up, among other things, once he had taken over accounting. Now Watchmen could, if they so chose, have the minor costs associated with the job, such as rent for the barracks, or contributions to the Widows and Orphans Fund, taken out automatically from their pay docket every month. With a receipt, natch. [11]

[11] Yes, the longer that he was with them, the more Vimes really was glad that Pessimal was working for the Watch.

[12] Normally they had to wait until they were at least a probationary officer but Vimes was damned if she left an officer, no, not just an officer, but a wet behind the ears girl tossed out from her home, out on the streets any longer than necessary.


	66. Getting Along

Sam Vimes had no problem at all with Adora Belle Dearheart; she was wonderful company for when the Watch did Ladies’ Night Out, and it was nice to have some company when needing to go have a a smoke.[1][2][3]

Vimes couldn’t say the same for Adora’s husband however.

And then came the day that they moved in next door.

Vimes looked at the plate of freshly baked cookies in her husband’s hand, then at her husband, then at her boots which he had also brought in.

“Oh no, no way Saul, I am not going over there.”

“Sam, this is what you do when you have new neighbors, you go over and welcome them to the neighborhood.”

Vimes gave him a Look[4].

Saul just smiled.

Vimes asked, “Do you think we could wait until Adora gets home?”[5]

“No.”

There was another moment, and then Vimes cursed and put on her boots.[6][7]

\---------------

“I am so happy that you and Adora bought this house in particular; it’s such a beautiful old home, and I know the pair of you will be the ones to take good care of it.”[8][9]

Across from him, Vimes and Moist were on the same couch pointedly Not Looking At Each Other.

More accurately, Vimes was Not Looking at a man that she had apprehended for fraud and theft, gotten him fair and square, and the fact that he was still walking around was a daily personal affront to her.[10]

And Moist was Not Looking at a woman that he couldn’t charm, boonswoggle, bribe pull the wool over, and otherwise fool. Not to mention the whole ‘having him arrested and almost hung’ thing.

That was a really, really big Thing, to be honest.

Saul beamed at them. “This is really quite lovely.”

The pair on the couch simultaneously decided to focus on how much they loved their spouses.

————————————————————

[1] Before Adora knew Samantha Vimes, if anyone asked her to step outside and smoke, she usually blew smoke in their faces. But if Sam Vimes had no problem stepping outside to smoke[2], well, it made her feel a little bit silly, to be honest, thinking about what she used to do.[3] Now she stepped out whenever Vimes did.

[2] Saul had never liked Sam smoking in the house, and now there was Little Sam around too, so she had gotten into the habit of just going outside.

[3] Not that she let Moist see that because if there was anyone who would take an inch and run a mile, it was him.

[4] Which went right past Saul thanks to years of practice.

[5] So asked the Commander of the City Watch, Duchess of Ankh-Morpork, wife and mother.

[6] Saul was gracious in victory and in no way let his face show what he thinking.[7]

[7] Mainly that this was Little Sam-type behavior, but he stomped on that thought and felt really bad about it.

[8] The manse that Adora and Moist had bought was a bit…dilapidated. It was the only way their certainly not ungenerous budget could stretch to live on Scoone Avenue. [9]

[9] That being said, the old house was one that Adora had seen ever since she was little. It was a falling down old wreck, but it had lots of little turrets and windows and doors that went nowhere and, in a rarity for the city, a large tree in the yard.

[10] She still had no idea what in the hells was Vetinari thinking, letting him live. But on the other hand the bastard did have the mail and the bank running again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this anon tumblr prompt: Vimes and Moist are forced to get along


	67. Interruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on page 67 in Raising Steam. 
> 
> Or, spoilers.

Vimes was eating her lunch at home for once, enjoying watching Little Sam scramble all over the playset that they had built in the back yard.

Among the children playing with Little Sam there were two or three goblins from the family that lived on Adora’s roof[1], some of Colon’s grandkids that he had dropped off, Corporal Hamcrusher’s nephew, and the twins from next door, who, if their parents had known they were at the Ramkin Manor[2], would have screamed bloody murder. And yet despite what society and parents wanted, all of them were playing together, happily jumping and screaming and getting in the mud.

She had some part in making this possible, Vimes realized with a start.[3] Koom Valley, that trip to the Shires, hell , the Watch….she helped with that.

Watching the kids run around and scream at each other[4] seemed like a wonderful reward, even if she had to leave in ten minutes.

Well, maybe fifteen.

—-

No more than five minutes after she had gotten back to the Watch House, a runner from the Palace came down asking for “Blackboard Monitor Vimes, ma’am.”

She thought about the children she had left in Saul’s hands at her house. She thought about a peace so delicately made and how easy it would be to break it, and her blood ran hot then cold, and the scar on her wrist burned.

Over her dead body, Vimes thought, and went to see the Patrician.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

[1] It still freaked out Moist that his wife a. knew Commander Vimes, and b. occasionally went out with her and some other Watchmen. When he had asked Adora to think of how he felt, early in their relationship, he got part of a stiletto to the foot. He let it be after that.

[2] as everyone persisted in calling their place. It drove Saul to distraction, but honestly, it didn’t faze Vimes too much. This was her home, and the fact that their neighbors were still so uncomfortable with her presence this many years on made her grin.

[3] Or a large part, or most part, as Saul would have probably said, but her husband seemed to think she was this amazing, wonderful person that she knew she was definitely not.

[4] Though like Susan, Vimes elected not to hear too closely what they were screaming. She had no illusions about the ‘innocence’ of childhood.


	68. Trainset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Minor spoilers for Raising Steam!

“Drumknott, this is important, I need to go in.”

Drumknott looked at Moist impassively. “You know by now that my Lordship does not take any appointments but the most important ones on Octeday…”

Too late did Drumknott realize this was a tactical error[1], as Moist took that as a sign to cheerily say “Well, this is very important!” and push his way in to find…

Well, he was not expecting to find a little girl playing with a wooden trainset on the ground, happily making “choo-choo!” noises.[2][3] She had on overalls, had vaguely ginger brown hair, and had the feet of someone who would be very tall one day.[4] Someone, and his mind boggled as he realized it could only be Vetinari, had helped her make a track that went around and under his desk, wove around other pieces of furniture, and climbed up and over a chair with the use of many books and stacks of paper.

And that little girl looked familiar and then ohshit. Of course she looked familiar because she played every day outside in the yard two houses over from them on Scoone Avenue.[5][6][7] That was Commander Vimes’ daughter, and Lord Vetinari’s godsdaughter.[8][9]

It clicked now, why his Lordship never called him in on Octeday, because this was the day he spent with his godsdaughter. And here comes Moist von Lipwig, barging in on a private moment, which could have been forgivable to anyone else, but considering that the words ‘private life’ and ‘Vetinari’ in the same sentence made his head boggle, well, Moist knew he was in the shit.

And yup, the last time Vetinari had looked at him like that, it was because Mr. Pump had dragged him in from an abortive escape attempt, and he was reminded that the thing about angels was that you only got one.

Discretion is the better part of valor, Moist thought, and turned on his foot and left without saying a word, before he could mess things up even more.

On his way out, Drumknott gave him a look that wasn’t quite “I told you so,” but was still a bit smug.

—-

“I know him! He’s the shiny man who lives down the road! And Of the Tears the Joy, and Leaves on the Wind, and everyone else lives on his roof!”

Little Sam looked at him with grey eyes the same as her mother’s. “Didn’t he want to play with us?”

Even though he was upset about the interruption, Vetinari couldn’t help but smile. “No Samantha, he has bigger trains to play with.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

[1] To be fair, he had been a little distracted recently, with the trains and the trainspotting he had taken up in his spare time.

[2] If Vetinari was anyone else than Vetinari, and not blessed with superb situational awareness, Moist would have walked in on the Patrician on the floor as well. {3}

[3] Though because he was still Vetinari, he was building the track, while Little Sam was content to push the cars around and make up stories about the people on the train.

[4] Perhaps this was an odd observation but she was wearing bright pink shoes so it was hard not to notice.

[5] Saul had built Little Sam a playset in the backyard, well away from the dragon pens and with help from Sam and Willikins and some Watch members as well. Little Sam loved it but after a while got a little lonely. [6] There were other kids on Scoone Avenue but their parents refused to let them play outside, let alone with the daughter of a ‘jumped up copper’ and her husband of dubious (in their minds) sexuality.

But Saul noticed the longing looks in their eyes whenever they went by in their parent’s carriages and saw the big wooden wonderland in the yard, and so he put in a word with Willikins, who put in a word with his lady Purity who helped Saul in the pens and knew many of the nannies and governesses on the street. And so Arrangements were made, and soon the yard was filled with the sounds of kids from the street playing with Sam, as well as other children of the Watch, and more recently, the goblin kids who lived on Moist’s roof.

And as Saul planned, by the time his fellow parents on his street found out about the Arrangement, they weren’t able to drag their kids away from Little Sam’s house for love or money. And he very definitely did not smirk. [7]

[6] The children of other Watchmen came over and Little Sam had a great deal of friends among them but they couldn’t come over all the time.

[7] He left that, and the shouting, to his wife.

[8] It was a thing that neither was general knowledge nor a guarded secret. Vimes figured it would be best for her daughter to draw as little attention to the fact as possible. [9]

[9] And Vetinari too, she supposed.


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My it's been awhile hasn't it? 
> 
> ;)
> 
> Not even going to attempt to put this in some kind of chronological order any more. There may be more. There may not. Either way, as always, thanks for reading.

“Mummy, what’s this?”

Vimes frowned down at her daughter on her lap. “What’s what Little S-”

A fat, sticky hand not so gently smacked against her face like a big starfish.

“What’s this!” Little Sam repeated, and then giggled, repetition being very humorous to a four year old.

“It’s a scar Little Sam, like the one you have on your hand from touching Daddy’s dragons.”

“But…. It’s big!”

“Yes it is.”

“Really big!”

Little Sam’s hand traced Vimes scar from tip to tip, from where it snaked up into her hairline and down to where it ended near her lips.

“How did you get it?”

Vimes froze. Fuck fuck fuck what to say what to say-

“It’s your birthday scar.”

“Mine?”

Vimes nodded. “Yes yours. And everyday when I wake up and see it I think of you.”

Little Sam looked like she was about to explode; literally, she had seen the same look on some of Saul’s dragons before they went bottoms up.

“Can I have one too?!”

Vimes winced. “Er, I rather you didn’t.”

“Okay!” Her daughter suddenly reached up and planted a big wet kiss on the part of her scar that cut across her cheek.

“Love you mummy!”

Vimes hugged Little Sam tightly until she squeaked.

“Love you too.”

(And outside the lilacs bloomed like they always did)


	70. Chapter 70

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sybil/Sam (or fem!Sam, your choice), 99. Post Fifth Elephant, but they're still vacationing in Uberwald.  
> 99\. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

Vimes blinked tiredly at Saul. Wasn’t he supposed to be the sensible one in this relationship? No, maybe it was her; he had too many damn dragons to be sensible.[1]

Saul, having piled out all the blankets they had had in the sleigh, plus a few more he had pulled out from gods nowhere, grinned at her.

“Tada! I’ve always wanted to do this since I was a little boy-”

“Really?” Sam croaked out weakly. 

Saul paused in plumping the make shift pillows he had fashioned together from some sheets and straw. “Oh yes! Father’s butler pulled me out of more abandoned outhouses and old buildings than either of us count.” Saul chuckled. “Good old Farthingwhislebough. He would have a good laugh to see us here.”

Vimes opened her mouth, to let Saul know about the part of her time in the woods she had left out.[2]

He had burrowed into the blankets, laying easily on the straw mattress and pillows it had taken him all of five minutes to create, straw that Vimes knew[3] from experience would poke through all night, and beamed at her.

She closed her mouth, and joined her husband in bed.

—

[1] And since when she had been this tired this early in the night? Was this what the next few months were going to be like? _Fuck_. 

[2] Almost all of it, at least until they got home. 

[3] and Saul, bless him, did not. 


	71. Chapter 71

“She has your eyes.”

While most times Vimes would have thought strangers [1] were just saying that for lack of any other distinguishing feature shared between the two of them, she had to admit that they were right.

 

“She has your eyes,” Saul had said one morning when Little Sam was even littler than she was now, her eyes turning from that weird blue everyone seemed to start out with.

“I’m going to guess she has your hair,” Vimes had retorted, motioning at the curly mass on their daughter’s head, “because she certainly didn’t get that from me.” 

He had only waggled his eyebrows in turn and it was dumb and it surprised a laugh out of her and even when Little Sam began to laugh too and then promptly spat up on Saul, it was still perfect.

(too perfect, a small voice inside said, for a kid from Cockbill. She ignored it. She had practice at it now.)

 

“She has your eyes.”

Vimes had never thought much about her appearance until she met Saul. Hell, the only reason she had kept her hair long was because it would have been more work to keep it man short.[4]

Grey eyes looked back at her from the shaving mirror she had gotten Saul for his birthday. A poet would have compared them to the metal of her sword, to the craggy rockface that was beaten by the ocean waves, to the deadly cold of a winter sky. Eyes that had seen pain and fear, blood and death. Eyes that were the window to the Dark inside-[5]

If you pressed her, Vimes would say that they her eyes were green that gave up half way there.

 

“She has your eyes,” Carrot said as he bounced Little Sam on his lap. She was looking up at Carrot in complete awe, quiet for the first time all that day. 

It wasn’t like Carrot to notice things like that [6] and it made Vimes pause on her way back to her desk, to look at her daughter.

The toddler waved her chunky arms at Vimes. “Ma!” 

Those were the same eyes she saw when she brushed her hair and polished her armor, Vimes supposed. She didn’t care overmuch about them in her own face as long as they did their purpose but-

But Little Sam’s eyes were so bright, so happy, so full of life-

“Commander? Is something wrong? I thought I heard you sniff-”

“Just some dust Carrot,” Vimes said sternly. 

 

“She has your eyes.”

(She didn’t. And Vimes aims to keep it that way)

————-

[1] And what was it about having a kid that made the buggers think they could come close and blurt out stupid shit at them?[2]

[2] What was worse that glaring didn’t even work. Or pointed remarks.[3]

[3] A arm twisted around the back if they got too close however, usually did the trick. 

[4] All she had to do was take her sword and give it a good whack whenever it got annoying, which was nice and easy. 

[5] Then the poet got arrested, because random public displays of poetry was veering dangerously close to…. _miming_. At least, that’s what Colon’s rationale was. 

[6] Vimes had had Angua confide in her over quite a few lunch breaks and overnight shifts. 


End file.
